Blood Loyal
by torchwoodtimelord
Summary: Angelo Tobias Watson-Holmes has lost everything. His parents, his wife, his son, and his will to live. Filling his life with his work and his drinking, he has shut himself away. Then one dark and stormy night the Unspeakables came a'knocking with a question. A very important question that left unanswered could mean the fall of the Potter-Malfoy dynasty and the rise of a Dark Lord.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS:** slash, angst, violence, rating may go up later for sexy times (but we are undecided on that at this point), adult language and situations, bigotry and blood status hate. More warnings will be added as needed.

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

_**CHAPTER SPECIFIC NOTES:**_ This is the **ONLY** chapter that will take place in the _"Sherlock/present time"_ end of our AU (and even then it's rather far into the future from that). From chapter 1 onward **everything** will take place between the _summer of 1921 and the summer of 1923_. The _Harry Potter_ timeline was rewritten to accommodate the crossover with BBC!Sherlock for our stories and does not reflect on the original time span of the canon books._**  
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* * *

He could smell the ozone in the air from the periodic lightning strikes. Through the layers of old wood and tacky wallpaper. Through dust and insulation. The fire in the grate burned low. Just barely enough to fight the chill of the wet night. His hands busy with the small chip and PIN machine the local grocer had brought to him that afternoon for repair. His mind busy with other matters while his mouth dictated to the flat, slim computer pad nestled amongst his tools.

"A warm London day, it was," he said clearly. "When news of the Jaria Diamond surfaced. Our father, Sherlock, had in his youth been offered the case when it had first been stolen. Unlike the first Consulting Detective, Hamish welcomed the danger of the case."

He stopped speaking, his face contorting in deep concentration as his hands continued their work. "Command mode. Delete document." He waited for the alert to chime that the command was completed. "I'll not be writing that one today."

With a sigh he rifled through his mind, losing himself briefly among the infinite corridors of the imaginary bunker base. He had just selected a rather thrilling adventure that had led himself, his brother, his sister, and a miniature poodle through the Berlin criminal underground when his thoughts were disturbed first by an unfamiliar scent. Then by an abrupt banging on his front door.

A frown turned into a scowl as he put down his tools and glanced to his computer pad. "Command mode. Shut down." This time, he did not wait for an alert.

Rising from his stool he stretched his arms over his head. Silently he used his magic to tap into the wards of his cottage. There were three of them. Two witches and a wizard. Moderately powerful, but better than most. He pulled his magic back and lowered his arms. He checked that his wand was nestled in its holster, strapped to his wrist, and left the workroom.

He closed the door behind him, muttering a locking spell as he heard once again the forceful banging at his door.

He heaved a great sigh and made his way towards the front of the cottage to answer.

Swinging the door open he continued to scowl at his trio of uninvited guests. A sniff of the air and his wolf senses caught the unmistakable odor of the stagnant water fountain in the ministry's main reception lobby. Staff entrance, he figured, was the one they had used. He only knew the water had been stagnant because the fountain had broken shortly before his last visit, to file paperwork after…

His unwanted guests stood there on his front step, looking back at him expectantly.

"Go away," he said. "I'm retired. And my paperwork is all in order down at the beastie division in the magical creatures department. Kept up to date, real regular like. Registration renewed day before my birthday every year since I was nineteen." He paused for breath, but quickly continued to cut off whatever it was the wizard among the trio was going to say. "I've not done any magic around or to any muggles. And I'll not take part in any ceremonies nor think tanks. For all political and fiscal matters, see my elder sister, as she is head of my family since my dad's passing, rest his muggle soul."

Having said his peace, he started to close the door. Unfortunately he was forced to stop when the man's arm was put in the way. "Mr. Holmes-"

"Watson," he said monotonously.

"What?"

"Mr. Holmes was my father. And are my brothers. I much prefer Watson. Simple and inconspicuous, which is how I like it. Good night."

But the door would not budge. Or rather, would not close as he'd like it to. And neither did the wizard's arm. "Look, I'd really rather be left in peace-"

"Mr. Watson, we only need twenty minutes of your time."

"I don't-"

"How did Draco Malfoy escape from a mansion filled with the most loyal and violent of Thomas Riddle's followers undetected?" one of the witches asked suddenly and loudly to make sure she'd be heard. "Especially as the Dark Lord himself had taken residence within the Malfoy family home, and was not but two rooms away from young Mr. Malfoy at the time of his escape."

Through the partially closed door, and beyond the arm the wizard insisted on keeping in the way of it realizing the second purpose for which it had been installed (to close again after it had been opened) he considered the question. Then he sighed once more. The door moved in the only direction available to him. Inward. Open. Stepping aside he allowed them into his home.

Once the door had been closed behind them, he grumbled. "I'd prefer not, since I don't want you to even be here, but my dad did ensure I learn proper manners. Would you like a cup of tea?"

The three looked to one another before shaking their collective heads. "Well," he said. "I'm having one anyway. The study's that way, door on the left. Don't make yourselves comfortable, and don't sit in the black and chrome chair. Or the other one. For that matter, don't sit down. I'll not have your ministry stink on my furniture. Even if you are Unspeakables."

He pushed past them, giving a low growl as he made his way to the kitchen to fetch himself a cuppa. He could have simply used magic, but he preferred, these days, to do most things the muggle way. Magic, he had decided, had cost him far too much in life to be used as wantonly as he had once done.

Soon, he had settled into his favorite chair, his father's old chair. The chipped mug he always favored when he was in a foul mood sat on a patch of yellow gaffa tape. Indeed much of the chair boasted similar patches, and little of its original black leather remained. The other chair, across from it, had patches of silver and red.

He frowned as they fired questions at him. Waiting for them to be quiet so he could answer them with sarcastic, but honest, remarks. However, after nearly eight minutes he'd had enough. "Will you three howler monkeys be quiet for a few moments! I can't bloody concentrate with all three of you nattering on at once!"

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of a fire he hadn't started. So surely one of his "guests" had lit the embers.

"Thank you. Now, let's establish why you couldn't just ring me up. I have a phone, and miss Mousey Brown over there," he said, indicating the woman closest to the fireplace. "Is muggleborn. So clearly someone in your department knows how to operate the modern muggle phone networks. Also, an owl would have been equally sufficient."

"We had attempted to-" Miss Mousey Brown began, but was cut off by the wizard with them. Clearly he fancied himself their spokesman.

"Mr. Watson, our attempts to reach you in the past seventy two hours have failed."

"You know," he replied. He took a sip of his tea, then set it back down again. He did not unwrap his fingers from the handle. "Yesterday would have been my son's seventeenth birthday... My wife and I had finally decided to get married. We'd already had six girls, and had lived together ages before that. Then she was knocked up again. Swore she'd not give birth till I made an honest witch of her at last." His smile was hollow. His eyes distant, seeing not the room but the clear memory in his own mind of that day. His wife, the size of a planet, in her wedding dress. Screaming at the vicar that he'd better hurry it along because she couldn't make the baby wait much longer.

"Mr. Wat-"

"I tell you this so that you understand very clearly that in the last seventy-two hours, I was not exactly in my right mind. Since I am alone in this cottage, you can clearly see that on days like yesterday I feel the loss of my wife and only son all the more strongly. So sorry that my mourning has thrown a spanner in the works for you."

It was Miss Malfoy Question who broke the awkward silence next. She came closer, and had the audacity to sit across from him when he'd specifically told the trio of invaders not to sit. Not to get comfortable at all.

"Mr. Watson, please do forgive our intrusion-"

"This one," he said, glaring at the other two. "At least has enough sense to apologize for disturbing me before steamrolling right on in. From now on, send her out if you bastards feel the need to disrupt my life." He growled at them before turning his attention back to this other woman. "Apologies, Miss?..."

"Ludlowe," she said.

"Not your real name."

"No. Unspeakables," she said. "You'd guessed correctly."

"Don't play that game with me. You know who I am. You know where I come from. So you know I never guess. I'd tell you how I knew, but that would requite showing how clever I am. And I am not a performing monkey." He sipped his tea again, sighed, then leaned back some in his chair. "Continue."

She gaped at him, then recovered and quickly gathered her thoughts. "Well," she said, collecting herself. "Mr. Watson, we have been trying to contact you on a matter of utmost importance. We also know that you have become a recluse, and have made it nearly impossible to find you. Matter of fact, I must admit, we had to pressure your elder brother into giving us your location."

"Which one?"

"The detective," she said, wrinkling her nose. He grinned at her, and it was the only outward sign that he wasn't entirely grumpy. "He was... unpleasant."

"Yes. Hamish gets extremely volatile of late. It's been years since his mate passed, and he has no stabilizing influence in his life. If you'd like a clear picture of what our late father was like, he's rather close to the mark."

She gave back a small smile. Her comrades were rolling their eyes and growing impatient. "Look, I'll not circle the pitch here. We've come across a puzzle that's got us in the DOM rather stumped. We've had nearly every department have a look. We've contacted every major historian and specialist on the period of wizarding history in which the War took place. Your sister was the one who directed us to find you when we questioned her of your family history, and requested to view the Malfoy and Potter libraries."

He listened to her as she further explained their problem. And what had caused it. Apparently, there was a vault in Gringotts that had been sealed for just over fifty years. At which point an alarm in a solicitor's office just off Diagon Alley went off. They hadn't known what it was for, and sent one of their staff to the bank to see to it. Which is how the firm got hold of a strange box. Which opened another set of flobberworms entirely.

"So, what you're saying is-"

"The box belonged to a solicitor who had worked on retainer for your family. At least, for your grandparents, and their children. Obviously, he has long since passed. But the box had inside two things. One, another, smaller box that requires a blood key. Very serious, very dark magic. That's why it was brought to our attention. The second, and this is the curious part, was a rather short letter. The solicitor, Mr. Greenslade, had become quite curious of something. And apparently he knew that he would not live to uncover the answer. He felt it was very important that someone get it sorted. While working for the late Mr. and Mr. Potter-Malfoy, he came across inconsistencies. He traced them, we know not where, which led him to leave the box until such a time that the puzzle would get sorted."

He had listened, and sipped his tea quietly as he considered her tale. "I see. Now that we have your purpose for being here straightened out, how do you expect me to help?"

"Well, considering the subject of the question, and the fact that all other avenues of information have dried up, who better to ask than the family historian? Hence why your sister told us to ask you, and why we were forced to contact your unpleasant nymph brother for your location. And why we so desperately needed to find and speak with you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he said at last, staring into his now empty cup. He set it on the small table beside his chair. "However, your honesty with me will take you far. As well as your attitude, which I may say is quite pleasant compared to Mr. Surly and Miss Mousey Brown."

"There's no need to be difficult," Mr. Surly muttered.

He gave another small, hollow smile. "My father used to say that he could not form a solid theory without data. He also said you cannot make bricks without clay. How was I supposed to know what you wanted to learn if I did not know why you had come to my home, which is in the middle of nowhere near a very muggle village, during a rather heavy downpour, in the dead of night? Now," he said, giving his full attention back to the rather pleasant woman who had taken the road of patience with him rather than the indignant. "What is it you would like to know?"

He spent the next several hours answering her questions as completely as he could. When he did not know, he simply plucked a book from one of the shelves and searched for the answers. Then, she returned to the first question. The question that had gotten them through his front door.

"Honestly," he said. "I've often wondered that myself. Have you spoken with his portrait at the Manor?"

She glanced to the other witch, who nodded. "Yes," Miss Mousey Brown said. "But he was very tight lipped on the subject. We had asked the other portraits, as well as those who were associated with your family during that time. No one knows anything-"

"That's not entirely true. Someone must know something. Memory charms could have been put into place before the paintings were commissioned. I'm sure grandmother would have known, as it was very hard for my grandparents to keep secrets from one another for very long. Wizard's oaths could also have been in effect. I'm surprised your lot hadn't thought of these potential problems, and then dove right into research on wizard portraits. I'm sure there's plenty of mysteries at work there." He shrugged. "That is neither here, nor there. Draco Malfoy, I suspect, took that particular secret to the grave with him, and ensured none could speak of it after."

"Yes," Ludlowe said with a defeated sigh. "I suppose that's it then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Watson. Again, I apologize for having disturbed your night."

He glanced towards the window, seeing the sky was only just starting to lighten. Dawn would be on them soon enough. "You know the way out," he said. The other two were all too happy to go. But the woman who had called herself Ludlowe moved slower, almost deliberately. To him, it was so terribly obvious.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked with a tired groan.

"I was wondering. And it's a shot in the dark, I know. But maybe... When you were a child, did your grandparents ever talk about the war?"

"Of course. It's what nearly tore them apart, and yet in the end brought them together again. And, coming from the family that I do..."

"Right... Right. Sorry. Stupid question."

"Quite."

"Well, what I was meaning to... Is there anyone? Anyone at all that you may have heard of, even in passing, that we might could speak to?"

He thought hard for a moment. This Unspeakable, this Ministry employee, he actually liked. She was decent enough, at least. And this puzzle, or similar ones to it, had bothered him as well. Had bothered all of his siblings, actually. But none really bothered to look further into it. "There was a man," he said at last and rose from his chair. Quickly he moved to the desk, glancing up briefly at the large black scorch mark on the ceiling before reaching for pen and paper.

Three names he scribbled down before ripping the sheet from the pad and offering it to her. "My uncle, you know of him?"

"Yes. The late Lord Malfoy's work as muggle liaison is quite well documented and known. He was, from what I am told, quite a severe man."

"He had his moments," he said. "Especially after his partner Greg passed... But that's neither here nor there. I only mention him because of his name. Look at his name."

She did. The Potter-Malfoys, and the generations after, were known for giving their children odd and eccentric names. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Father said he was named after an old family friend my grandparents met during the war. Yet... my father had never met him. My uncle had never met him. Nobody's met him. I've tried to dig up information but... there's nothing. There was no Scorpius Mycroft Holmes in England, or indeed on the Continent during that period of time. At least, not a wizard by that name. I've tried all three names separately as well. There's seventy five Mycrofts on record, most of which were in France. Nineteen men and women by the name of Scorpius. Most of which were dark wizards and witches. During the entirety of the war, half of those died. The rest were sent to Azkaban on various charges in the years before and after the war. None were related. As for Holmes... Do you know how common a muggle name that is? It's why my uncle Mycroft chose it for his muggle alias."

She stared at him, blinking as she let this sink in. Then, she looked down at the paper again. "I... I'll see what I can find."

"Next time, owl before you come storming to my house in the dead of night. And don't bring those two idiots with you. It's like having Anderson standing in my bathroom. Very unsettling."

"What?"

He shook his head and moved to show her out. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing you'd understand at any rate."

Once he was again alone, he looked around his old, run down little cottage. He took a deep breath, rubbed at his tired eyes, and then returned to his workroom. Once seated at his bench again, he reached underneath for the bottle that now sat there on a regular basis. A tumbler soon followed.

Before he went back to work on the chip and PIN machine, he had already drowned the glass three times of its scotch - one drink for each of the headaches he'd developed during the night.

**o0o**

The pub was noisy. The pub was full of life. It was just what one needed if he were feeling particularly anti-social and needed the enjoyment of running people away rather rudely. A bottle sat on his little table by the window. A tumbler beside that. And in front of him, with the glass and bottle behind, sat his computer pad. He didn't dictate this time as he had while working. Instead he tapped at the touch screen with the fingers of one hand while occasionally pouring himself a drink with the other.

But he wasn't only in the pub to work on another 99p store story.

He was there to meet a woman who could not be found. Unless, of course, one had the connections to do so. Notes of which he had stored, also, on his computer pad.

Every so often silver eyes would rise from his work to scan the room, though he knew she had not yet arrived. Nearly the entire afternoon passed in this fashion, until at last when the door opened and his nose caught the scent of the ministry fountain. And...

He smiled to himself, a small but genuine little expression, and then looked up. "Miss Gretta Katherine Gaines-Ludlowe," he said when she had approached the table. "Hufflepuff who many feel should have been sorted Slytherin. Prefect, then Head Girl. Eleven out of twelve NEWTs."

She frowned, glancing worriedly about before taking a seat across from him. "Mr. Watson-"

"Don't worry. The moment I caught your scent I put charms in place. No one will understand what we're talking about, if they even hear it. Now, you were a very model student. On the fast track for becoming both a transfiguration and divination's master. But during your apprenticeships, a student caught you while in a trance and I believe you foretold of his mother's murder. Seeking to prevent this, he went out and confronted a rather nasty fellow he believed had been harassing her at her place of employment. And, well, you know how these sorts of things go... I was quite surprised to learn you immediately went into the Department of Mysteries under the name Ophelia Price. Rather odd, I'd thought, until I learned who your grandmother was. Sally Donovan, defrocked witch forced to leave her given name of Price behind. Really. I hadn't known she'd settled. Or, perhaps, you simply came about because she'd gotten knocked up by a married man, and your mother was the result. Not Anderson, though. I'd know." He stopped, setting his computer pad aside and quietly turning a spoon into another glass. He filled both his own and the other before offering her a drink. "It seems, Miss Ludlowe, that you and I were meant to cross paths. Just as my sister had found a Weasley while one brother was meant to find himself a Moriarty, I seem to be saddled with a Donovan."

"Mr. Watson, not only are your assumptions rude and inappropriate, whatever information is kept in my secure ministry files is classified under ministry sanctions-"

"Don't give me that shite. I don't trust people to tell the truth when dealing with them. I like to know who I'm probably going to get buggered by. Now that the field of play is even, and we both know the sort of opponent we're playing against, let's get to business. Your missive stated you had uncovered information regarding the name I gave you."

She frowned, having wanted to dive right into questions rather than their discovery. "May I, just a few first. I wanted to see if there were any other connections to be made before I showed you-"

He waved a hand and picked up his glass. "Alright, alright. But only because you're patient with an old, bitter werewolf."

She cleared her throat, reached into her coat pocket, and removed a sheet of paper covered in names. Names of this man's family members. And one by one she went through the list, asking where the names had come from.

By the time she had reached his sister, he'd been bored stiff. Parroting information that should have been quite obvious. "Look," he said. "My sister was named for my muggle aunt. Her middle name of Wynona is from my dad's favorite actress, Winona Ryder. My brother Hudson's name comes from the late landlady of 221 Baker Street, Mrs. Martha Hudson. His middle name of William is for William the Conqueror, whom my father thought was quite interesting at the time. My brother Hamish Leopold got his name from my dad's middle name, also Hamish, and from a bet my father lost to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, my late uncle's partner. And _my_ name comes from a misplaced sentiment for the restroom of a restaurant in which I was both conceived and born."

"And your middle name, Mr. Watson?"

"What, Tobias?" He shrugged. "Dad always said father was insistent that my name be Tobias. He just liked the sound of it, and it wasn't one that began with an H. And it didn't go along with a theme. Lastly, it was not the name of anyone my father personally knew or actually cared about, therefore it could not be considered a name given in honor of someone else. Does any of what I've said answer any of your questions whatsoever?"

Her eyes had lit up when he had spoken of his own name. It was hard to miss when she also started scratching her quill against parchment far too quickly to be considered normal. "Mr. Watson, just one more question before we continue."

"Of course, because you can't just show me what evidence you've found. No, you've got to make my life more difficult."

She gave him a small smile, recognizing by now his sarcasm. "The Black Estate," she said. "The records at both Gringotts and the Ministry show that Mr. Potter was listed as his godfather's heir. Therefore he inherited everything the Black family owned rather than the estate passing to the next living male, the young Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes. Common knowledge."

"They then show that, upon Mr. Potter's passing, the estate passed to your father, Mr. Holmes. Correct?"

"Yes. Though father left the running of the estate to his brother Mycroft and sister Lily. As well as allowing the two of them to wield the political power behind his seat in the wizengmont. He preffered to remain living a muggle life."

"Well," she said. "It seems things get a little confusing after that. Now I understand why people come to you for political and fiscal matters to do with the estate rather than your sister."

"Yes. When father stupidly got himself blown up during an experiment, his will left everything to my dad. Unknowingly, due to the creature laws in effect at the time, as well as the type of bonding ceremony they had, the estate went with that. When dad passed, he had left everything he had to me, not knowing that he, a muggle, was actually Lord Black for three years between father's death and his own. I've tried to get this straightened out, but in the end had to give power of attorney to my sister, at least in the wizarding world, so that people like you will stay the hell off my back."

"Yes... about that..." she said, tucking her papers back into her pocket. From another pocket, she found another paper. Then, after a quick glance around, she enlarged it for him to see. "This was all we have been able to find linked to the name that you gave us. This is the last will and testament of-"

"Lord Scorpius Mycroft..." He trailed off, reading the name again. And again. And again. Trying to force himself to believe what he was seeing. The evidence was clear as day before his eyes. He was holding it in his hands. And yet, his mind rebelled against the very idea... He reached for his glass to find it once again refilled. At least this ministry worker was good for something other than disjointing his day. He drained the glass and set it back down, turning his attention back to the paper. The last will of a man he'd only suspected had existed. Swallowing hard, he continued, with a softer tone. "Lord Scorpius Mycroft Angelo Tobias Watson-Holmes Black of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black," he read. He glanced up to Miss Ludlowe with a confused expression before reading further into the paper.

It described, in great detail, the wand strapped to his wrist. The cottage in which he lived. The provisions that had been in place for when he would start his education at Hogwarts. Provisions he'd been told by his grandmother that had been set up by a distant family relation.

"Are there paintings? Photographs-"

"None. This is all we were able to find. But look, it was filed with the same firm that handled the Potter-Malfoy legal affairs. And the records with the firm show that it was read not long after you were born. The date of death... And do forgive me for looking up your birth records, Mr. Watson... But the date and time of death match the date and time of your own birth. It's a farfetched idea, but I don't think it's coincidence!"

She continued to explain other ideas and leads that the will had given her research team. But he tuned her out. He was going through the papers with a fine eye, breaking each and every section and article apart and growing more and more concerned as it went on. Finally, when he had deduced everything he could possibly get from it, he gave it back to her. "Tell me," he said. "How far have you come with the second box? The one needing a blood key?"

"Whomever sealed it knew what they were doing. I can't go into detail, but we've had experts from across the globe try their luck, with little success. We got it to jump off the table once. But... locked tight. We can't even identify a magical signature on the thing. Even if we could, I doubt we'd be able to find the person who made it. The box is older than the one we'd found it in."

He gave a small nod, casting his attention into his mind to secure the information he had gathered. Something didn't add up. Something was off. He could taste it as sure as he could taste the scotch in his belly. "Give me a week."

"What?"

"I said, give me a week. I will contact you by owl, and we will meet at the place of your choosing. There are some matters I must look into myself, and hopefully I may be able to shed some light on this little problem."

"Mr. Watson-"

"I think we're past formalities, Gretta. Please, call me Angelo."

She gave him a tiny, flattered smile. "Yes. Yes of course. When can I expect-"

"Like I said, a week. No earlier, no later."

**o0o**

It hadn't been hard to find the paperwork he needed at the solicitor's. They were actually eager to help, hoping to learn more of their vault mystery. After checking about the will, which as one of the beneficiaries he had no problem viewing a copy of, he had been able to find out that this mysterious man had not used his full, given title in his dealings. As a matter of fact, the only record of the full name had been on the will and the death certificate which, actually, had been much harder to get his hands on.

The name he found the man's records under had been a simple deduction. Scorpius Mycroft had been far too uncommon. Using an actual title would stick out like a crook in a police station. Watson or Holmes had been too muggle, and would have drawn attention after his uncle, then later his father, became associated with the names. Angelo... could have been gotten away with. But... No. Something common. Something everyone would overlook. But something absolutely true otherwise he'd have been picked up for fraud the moment he put quill to anti-fraud charmed parchment.

So Angelo did what he always did in these situations. What would he himself do? That part was simple. He'd use the pureblood name connection, Black. One of the most common names in the wizarding world. And an inconspicuous name that could tie him to no one he actually knew. Tobias.

Thus, he started looking for records filed for Mr. Tobias Black and soon enough he'd found a trail. Sparse on details, but it was enough to get him started. Invoices for construction work in Sussex. Account numbers for various vaults in the Australian, French, and South African branches of Gringotts. A list of valuables sold off at auction that were, he noted, of dubious nature. And a slew of summons to the wizengmont that dated back to just after the war. Quick mental calculations put the dates on the parchments around the time of the Death Eater Trials.

Periodically, his grandfather's name popped up, but not much. Just a few letters of correspondence which he realized had been collected after the man's death. Letters from Draco telling this stranger all about his children, and later grandchildren. An anecdote about Harriet announcing to the world she was upset she hadn't been sorted Slytherin after all. Complaints about muggle London.

Trivial matters, and trivial replies.

Nothing of great importance, so he left the rest in favor of potentially more important data.

When he had learned all he could from the solicitors, he repeated the process, with little success, at Gringotts the next day. What little he had been able to discover there had been that in some families, especially the older pureblood houses, there were often more than one lord or lady. It had to do with medieval law that Angelo really didn't feel was important enough to comit to memory at that time. What he was able to get out of the miserable goblins had been that yes, Tobias Black was indeed a Lord of the house of Black, but he was not the head of the family. That had been Harry Potter, via Sirius Black. Yet, he could act on behalf of the house of Black should the head of the family be indisposed or unable to do so him or herself.

At least, that was the gist of it.

Armed with all of this new knowledge, he then turned back to the books. Picking up the threads of information and tying them together in his mind. Building a mental web before he set out to interview the portraits of various old family friends. Of war heroes and even criminals.

By the time he at least reached Malfoy Manor on day six of his requested week to gather data, he was not in the best of spirits. Especially after a single surviving portrait of Lucius Malfoy spent nine hours screaming at him about trying to eat him alive. It was a bit not good when his great-grandfather starts shrieking like a woman at the very sight of him, despite having never actually seen the portrait before in his life.

His cousins, the Dimmock triplets who now resided in Potter-Malfoy manor (all three were rather obnoxious and boisterous Gryffindors) had been reluctant to leave him alone in the manor. Not that they hadn't liked their Holmes cousins. Oh no, they adored them. But... they were concerned about leaving him alone at all, given they knew their cousin was still grieving his wife and son.

They didn't want to come across him laying dead in their grandfather's study.

After assurances that he would be fine, and would call a house elf if he needed anything, they left him to the study. And to the portrait that waited behind the heavy green velvet curtains.

Angelo paced back and forth in the room. Glancing to the curtains as he bounced between anger and confusion.

Eventually he settled on rather peeved and stopped in front of the curtains. Reaching out for the silver rope, he pulled hard and watched as the smirking face of Draco Malfoy looked back at him.

"I knew you would be around soon enough. Especially after that rather nosey young woman came poking about."

"You've had some restoration work done," Angelo noticed, leaning closer and poking at the painting. "Rather fine job, too. They scaled you back a few decades, didn't they."

"One must keep up appearances as best one can."

"You're not ruddy royalty."

Draco smirked flatly back at him. "I'm a Malfoy. That's more than enough."

"And a Potter!" shouted another portrait nearby, hidden by deep red curtains.

"Go visit the other frame over at Harriet's!"

"Fine fine. I know when I'm not wanted."

"Don't be childish Harry. I'll fetch you when I'm done with the puppy."

"I'm right here you know."

Draco rolled his eyes, and if he could sigh, he would have done so at this moment. "Is he gone?"

"I heard they're remaking the Harry Potter films and I can't wait to see them!" Angelo lied rather loudly. When no rude response came from behind the red curtains, he nodded. "He's cleared off."

Draco relaxed, wished he had a chair painted into the portrait with him, and shook his head. "Even now he rants about those damned books. Caught one of your cousins reading one the other day. Set him off for a few days and nights. I could hardly get any sleep."

"Do portraits actually need sleep?"

"No, but what else are we going to do, hanging on the wall all day with no one to talk to but ourselves and nosey young women looking for answers to things they really shouldn't bother with."

Angelo couldn't help but return the smirk that was being shot at him. "I was hoping we could get back to that. They haven't made the connection yet. Because he's covered his tracks too well for your common variety snoop to find. Then again, minds like ours are hard to come by."

"Yes, they are. I suppose you've already been by the solicitors. And the bank."

"That's why there were never pictures of this mysterious friend of your's. Or a portrait."

Draco nodded.

"How long did you know?"

"How long did I know what?"

"Don't play games with me Draco!" he growled, then quickly checked himself. A quick look around told him his cousins hadn't heard his outburst. The silencing wards on the study must have still been in place despite how long ago they had been put there.

"I had them refreshed the last time your brothers were here. You should visit us more often, you know."

"Don't change the subject either."

If Draco would heave a great sigh, he would have. Instead, he mimicked the action. "Be specific. You're just like your father, you know. When it comes to demanding information. You're never specific enough."

"How long did you know who he was? Who I am? And why the bloody hell did no one bloody tell me!"

"Firstly, I suspected the day he died. But there was a lot going on at the time. My best friend had just died while I was sitting with him. My son had just barely survived giving birth to a very sick, very small, and very early child. Do forgive me if I had a lot of things on my mind and could not devote my full mental capabilities to sorting out one of the strangest mysteries I had ever encountered."

He felt his cheeks grow hot, and averted his eyes under Draco's penetrating stare.

"Secondly, my suspicions were not fully confirmed until I attended the will reading. Harry remained at the hospital with our son so that John, your dad, could accompany me. You had recently been cleared to go home, but needed constant attention and physical contact with a parent. Therefore, John had brought you with him."

"I was... You mean... But..." He looked back to the portrait, finding there a slightly softer expression in Draco's painted grey eyes despite the placid mask on his face. "I was at my own will reading?"

"Yes. It seems so."

"But why did no one tell me any of this? Why-"

"And how do you think that would have gone down, young man? Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Angelo. I was not about to throw a spanner in the works. So... I had to put a memory charm on John. Just a little one. Nothing your father would detect. And he had always been quite good, so it was a rather challenging risk. And I cannot tell you what will happen now, either."

"So I have no choice in the matter. I have to somehow find a way to go back in time, again, and then what? Save the day?"

Draco rolled his eyes rather dramatically. "Look. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm not even going to convince you to do it or not do it. You still have your free will."

"But that's the thing, innit? I don't have free will here. If I don't... If I don't rescue you, you'll get the mark. You get the mark, you'll be a Death Eater. You'll never patch things up with Harry. After the war the two of you will never get together. You'll never get married. You'll never make one of the most important magical breakthroughs of the 20th century. My father will never be born, and I'll never exist to be standing here right now pointing out this paradox."

Draco was silent now. Oh, he could have easily thrown a rather witty response. He could have rationalized that Angelo didn't know what he was even supposed to do, so how did he know that he was the one who really rescued him or not. He could have just told him to sod off and have his crisis elsewhere.

Instead, he gave a small, quiet little nod. In a moment of sincerity and compassion that had been so rare of him in life, he spoke softly and evenly. His tone one that once, long ago, a wise old werewolf had used to reassure him that everything would work out in the end. That he would survive the war and see his Harry again.

"Angelo, what is left for you here?"

"What?"

"Your life. What do you have left to keep you tied to this place?"

"My house-"

"You've lived in a tent."

"My girls-"

"Are grown with families of their own and no longer need their father."

"My... My brothers. And Harriet-"

"Are older than you. They take care of themselves. They have good jobs. Two of them have children of their own. Harriet, I hear, will be a grandmother herself soon."

"My work."

"From what I've heard you sit in the dark drinking scotch all day while speaking to a dictaphone and tinkering about with your odd little muggle machines. Alone. So I ask you again. What is left for you here?"

He growled angrily, reaching for his wand but then, realizing it was futile to hex a painting, allowed himself to slump into a nearby chair. "You said you weren't going to try and convince me one way or the other."

"I'm not. What I'm doing is trying to be a good grandparent and give you a sound and logical basis on which to make your decision."

"I don't want to do this. Why can't someone else-"

"Perhaps someone else did. Perhaps these clues were left for you to find so that you may bring attention to it. So that you can send someone else to-"

"No. Because it's too complicated. Nobody can be that clever."

Draco shook his head. "I believe your father, in a failed attempt to sow the seeds of doubt in his John's mind said something similar. I also believe you know what John told him in return." Angelo nodded, then leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His face in his hands.

He knew, the moment he'd read that will, what had to be done. He knew, also, that the means to do it had been locked away in that second box. The box that needed a blood key to open it. Dangerous and very dark magic. Necromancy, to be technical. He cast his thoughts wide, trying to find something, anything that would make this decision easier to make. Anything that could be considered big enough for him to remain here, in this life of his. Such as it was.

His heart ached, then. If his Matilde had still been with him... if his boy had still been there... He'd have gone against his logic. Fought against the evidence. But he didn't have his wife anymore. He didn't have his son anymore. Draco was right. His girls, squibs all six of them, had grown and started families of their own. Integrated fully into muggle society. His siblings, though they cared for him deeply, were no longer as close as they had been. Not since their dad had finally passed. Not since they had begun taking the roles left for them in both their worlds.

He was a sad old drunk living alone in a cottage. Working in the dark day in and day out between lunar cycles. The only time he even felt alive anymore was during the full moons. When he would run free beneath the stars, hunting rabbits and digging holes.

"That box," he said at last, looking up at Draco who, strange enough, looked back down at him compassionately. "You know what's in that box, don't you?"

He nodded.

"And you know how to open it."

Again, he nodded.

"And I'm the only one that can, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry."

He was right, without actually saying the words.

Angelo's life had run its course. He had nothing left to keep him there. Slowly, carefully, he took out his wand and held it between his index fingers. "I'd often wondered," he said. "Why my wand had such a peculiar name. Why it had these designs carved into it. Why it had the core that it did. Phoenix feather... It had been staring me in the face every day since I was eleven. I was born the day I died. _I create myself_."

"What?"

He shook his head and replaced his wand. "Nothing," he said. "Just... something I heard on a television programme as a child. I suppose now I'll have the chance to watch all of the missing episodes after television is invented."

**o0o**

The last day. The seventh day. He owled Ludlowe to tell her he would meet with her at a place of her choosing. At a time of her choosing.

Within the hour he received a response.

Within two hours he stood in the reception lobby of the Ministry, having his wand checked and receiving a visitor's pass and directions to the office in which he was to wait for his escort.

By teatime he was sitting in a room before an antique box made of ash and chestnut. A prick of the finger, a few murmured words in Gaelic, and a click echoed in the small room. Five sets of eyes looked to him as he lifted the lid of the box to discover two items. Carefully wrapped in silk and cushioned with both charms and actual pillows.

Ludlowe, being the only member of the research team that could get him to cooperate, moved closer to get a better look inside. "Is that... Is that what I think it is?"

He swallowed hard, looking from the slender phial filled with fluorescent liquid of a pensieve memory to the cracked and empty hourglass shaped pendant nestled in beside it. "What," he began, looking up at last from the contents of the box to the expectant faces staring back at him. "Do you know about time turners?"

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_**A/N -**_ This is actually the second version we've written for this prologue. The original had this convoluted plot of a frame up job, murder, and some other stuff. But that was just boring and hard to keep working with. So you get this instead. It'll also likely be the longest chapter of them all, being the prologue and our wanting to fit everything for this character into it rather than take the entire first four chapters to explain him and why he's even there at all. If you haven't read our story, **_John, I'm a Wizard_ **then we highly suggest you do so in order to familiarize yourself with out fanfic universe. Or you can check out the expanded ficverse via the bonus content on our tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

We greatly appreciate reviews, and will do our best to respond ASAP.


	2. 1 Escape

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

He could feel the poison slowly choking him. The death and decay that hung over the once beautiful paradise of his childhood. The gardens withered. The trees grew crooked. The grass... The grass was burned away. All life, natural life, dared not enter these grounds. The darkness, unnatural and unfathomable, had come to Wiltshire at the start of the summer. And now... now it threatened to swallow him whole.

Draco stood restlessly by the window of his bedroom. All too aware of the eyes that were forever watching his every move. Every thought that crossed his mind, despite his violent occlumency sessions with his aunt Bellatrix, was laid bare for the Dark Lord to see at any time he wished.

There was no escape from the punishment ahead of him. No escape from his father's failures. Unconsciously, he rubbed his left forearm, bare still but not for much longer. Soon his punishment would be decided, and with it would bring the Mark. And the end of his pitiful excuse for freedom.

A house elf popped into existence behind him, its bandaged hands trying to steady the shaking silver tray it had brought with it. Trying to keep from dropping the fine china on which a paltry meal was set. From spilling the tepid tea that accompanied it. Since the Dark Lord had come, gone were the extravagant and filling dinners. Gone were the delicious and rich sweets. Replaced with food unfit for even a house elf.

It was no wonder, between the stress and the lack of any real food, his lean form had thinned and his pale skin now took a sickly gray pallor.

"M...M... Master Draco is wanting to be eating."

"I'm not hungry, Mipsy."

"M...M... Mistress says Master Draco needs to be wanting to be eating." The rattling of dishes on the tray stopped, presumably as the elf had finally managed to set the tray down. A tug at the hem of his robes caused him to look down. The elf, wide eyed and frightened, kept tugging. The creature looked from him, to the waiting tray, then back again before popping away.

He let the tray sit a few moments before his empty stomach growled in protest. He hadn't eaten since...

The fact he could not remember was not a good sign. He could, at least, attempt to keep down the tea. After dropping three cubes in an attempt to at least destroy the taste that would be certain to offend, he picked up the teacup. Only then noticing the small square of parchment beneath.

Quickly he looked around his room, fearing that this would be the moment they would come for him. Fearing that he would be unable to keep the Dark Lord from seeing this scrap of heaven from his thoughts. Moments such as these were all that kept him sane now. The flowing hand of his mother, a reminder that he was not the only prisoner in his own home. But most importantly, that his mother still lived at all.

He grabbed up the parchment and read it over quickly. Then again.

A date. A time. Nothing more.

His heart dropped and his breathing sped up. Time slowed and his mind reeled.

He dropped the teacup, the beautiful china shattering as it hit the floor. The tepid tea spilling into the cracks of the fine hardwood. Soaking into the edge of the rug beneath the small table on which the tray sat. Staggering back, he nearly tripped over his own ottoman before finally flinging himself into a chair. His fate was sealed. His time had finally come.

Hours passed. Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. Each day and night filled with violent training from Bellatrix and the Lestranges. From McNair and from a long line of filth that had his father... But his father wasn't there. His father was in Azkaban still, waiting to be released.

A month passed. Exhaustion had taken its toll. His will, once strong and bold was now weak and thin. But still... just enough. Just enough to keep him alive.

He stood again in his rooms. The date had come. The hour was approaching. Daylight, what passed as such in the darkness that had consumed Wiltshire, would soon be lost for another sleepless night.

He stood ready. Composed as best he could be. Forcing himself to remain calm as he ticked down the minutes in his head until they would come for him. Come to burn the mark of a slave into his flesh.

He gripped his wand in one hand while clenching his empty fist in nervousness and apprehension. The door opened, and beyond it in the corridor was his mother. Battered, but not broken.

"Hurry," she whispered. "Hurry Draco, there isn't time." Behind her, with his back to the door, was a man. A man he had only glimpsed among the pack Fenrir had brought at the beginning of the summer to serve as the personal dogs of the Dark Lord.

"Mother?"

He sniffed the air in one direction, then the other. "No time. We have to go NOW," he growled. "They won't be distracted for very long. The moon rises soon."

"Who-"

The man gave an eerily familiar smirk, but there was no cold callousness behind it. Not like he had seen on his own father's face many a time before. "Moldy Voldy's attack dogs. Fighting over a gazelle. At least, they think it's a gazelle. Quite funny actually, see I spiked the fire whisky with a hallucina-"

"Draco," Narcissa pleaded as interruption, her hand outstretched for her son. He questioned nothing more, silently thanking Merlin for whatever break this may be. Whatever piece of luck the goddess Fortuna saw fit to cast down to him.

"Right," the stranger said, looking back and forth up the hallway. His hand gripping the handle of his wand tightly as he sniffed the air. Narcissa started down the hall, but he put his arm out and shook his head. His voice lacking the brief and amiable amusement it had boasted before he had been interrupted.

"Snakes that way," he said. "Big big snakes."

"But-"

"Cissa, trust me."

Draco watched as his silver eyes softened, yet the rest of his face remained a mask of determination. Narcissa looked to her son briefly, squeezing his hand and giving a nod. Quietly, but quickly the trio bustled into a side room. Crossing it and out the other side. The stranger sniffing the air and leading them through hidden passages and into secret compartments.

Places only the family knew. Some secrets not even he had been able to find in his childhood. Sometimes, however, they made a wrong turning and had to flee back.

It was not until they had at last reached the next floor down, their progress slow and arduous as they did their best to keep silent, that they were forced to stop for longer than a few moments. "The library should be up ahead," Narcissa whispered in the darkness of the hidden cupboard. "The passage narrows as it slips between Lucius's office and the relic's chamber."

"Is there another way out of the library than this and the doors?" he asked, a frown of concentration on his face. She shook her head, then looked to Draco. Clearly, she knew she did not know where all the secrets lay.

Biting his lip, he nodded. "Yes. The library is two levels. We'll come out on a narrow landing behind the cases along the east wall."

"Can we reach the other passage unseen?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "No. We'll be in plain sight. But it's the fastest way to the first floor."

"Where does it come out?"

"The ballroom. From there... We'll have to hide in the compartments. Wait until dark when it will be easier to slip out unnoticed through the conservatory entrance."

Narcissa looked to their nameless helper. His eyes were closed, his nose sniffing the air and filling his lungs with the dusty, dank smells of the passage. "No... There won't be enough time to wait for dark. It's a full moon. The pack'll be on us in no time. And the wards won't let us apparate. We'd never make it clear of them before we're ripped to shreds."

Narcissa gasped, pulling her son to her and choking back a sob. "We'll be spotted."

"They haven't noticed he's gone yet. We might still have a chance is we put a Notice-Me-Not on him. Maybe a glamour-"

"But my scent. You said yourself the werewolves will be on us."

"Let me take care of that, little lord. Come on. Time's wasting and daylight is burning."

Together, with the piece of luck in the lead, they worked their way through the winding passage, having to go single file when it did indeed narrow and slow their progress. At last, they made it out, and Draco could see the outline of the door from the light beyond. A few quick spells disengaged the locks in place and slowly, carefully they slipped out onto the landing. Draco edged to the corner of the book case behind which they concealed themselves. He stopped when he felt a strong hand with long fingers clasp upon his shoulder. The other hand held a finger to the man's mouth and he shook his head. Then, he reached into his pocket, revealing a small knife. Narcissa motioned for Draco to step away, and the man took his place at the corner.

As the man checked, using the reflective surface of the blade, for signs of life in the library Draco leaned in close to his mother to whisper softly into her ear.

"Why not just cast-"

"Because the wards are attuned to Him now. He will know if too much magic is done without his knowledge."

"What about the locking spells?"

He would have said more, had the man not stepped closer to them. His voice low, just barely more than a growl. "Two dogs. Two men. One woman. There's an elf, but he don't look too pleased."

Draco hissed. "He'll give us away."

"The dogs probably know we're here already. Just waiting for us to show." He did not put his knife away. Only gripped the handle tighter. "Not too smart, but patient before the moon makes them frenzy."

"What do we do?"

"I'll have to take them out. The rest... we can't have a firefight here. Distraction is what we need. And some good concealment charms."

"He will notice the magic. He will come looking. When they see Draco gone-"

The man placed a tender hand on Narcissa's arm and let it slide down to her hand. Draco didn't care for the affection his mother received. When those fingers lingered, linked with her own before finally falling away. "It's a risk we need to take, Cissa. You knew this."

"I don't have to like it."

Anger bloomed in Draco's chest. He did not know from where it came. Or for who it had been conjured. But the first chance he had, he would be sure to make this interloper understand his mother was still a married woman, despite her husband's absence. Draco wasn't fond of his father, but that didn't mean he could stand by and watch this.

But first, he had to escape. And survive the attempt.

"Draco," the man said suddenly. For the first time addressing him without a prompting from the boy's mother. "Your training. Remember the one who had you eviscerating house elves for his amusement, even after you sicked up on his shoes?"

A slow nod.

"He's out there. Want some payback?" He didn't wait for a response. "You know where the next passage is. I'll go out, get rid of the dogs. Then you come out and Narcissa and I will cover you."

The man tucked his wand up his filthy sleeve, clutched the knife tightly once more, and gave them one last look before leaping out from behind the case. Jumping down on top of a table with a ferocious howl.

Draco and Narcissa hid, their nerve starting to fail them as the sounds of fighting echoed up from below. The cracks of electric death. The sizzle and acrid smoke of fire as books and papers caught fire. Sending the death eaters into an angry frenzy.

Laughter. Laughter from below. A hollow sound that caused Narcissa's hand in her son's to clench tighter, squeezing his fingers painfully. "We have to hurry. They'll be on us soon."

"We can hand him over as a traitor," Draco replied, knowing even as he spoke it was the coward's way out. They had already come this far... But he could claim they were following him. Trying to uncover a spy from Dumbledore.

"No Draco. This is our only chance. I won't see you in Azkaban. I won't see you dead. I've... I've lost too much already. I won't lose you, too."

With that, she gave him a push off the landing, casting a cushioning charm so he would not hurt himself in the fall. He watched in horror at the scene unfolding before him. The flames reaching up and licking the ceiling. The smoke filling the library as two men circled around one another. One covered in blood, the other in soot. Their helper, their guide was crouched low as he moved. Tossing his knife from one hand to the other as he sized up his opponent.

He moved again when he felt his mother's reassuring hands on his arm. "Move," she hissed. "Hurry." He looked around before spotting the bookshelf he needed. He led his mother to it, searching through the titles before at last pulling one from the shelf. Behind it, a lever.

Even as he pulled it down, he felt his mother's back pressed against his, ready to deflect the spells that may come her way. Ready to protect her son.

That was what this was all about, Draco knew. A mother protecting her child. Saving him from the worst fate imaginable.

"Go," Narcissa hissed as the man launched himself at the death eater, growling visciously. She knew, before this, what the man was. She knew, also, that he swore an oath to her to keep her son safe. Swore to do anything, no matter how desperate, how terrible, to this end.

Draco ran into the secret passage that opened up between the book case with the lever and the one beside it. The narrow strip of wall that concealed the passage behind a tapestry.

Narcissa followed closely behind, her wand out and still at the ready. Soon, they were joined by the man. His long blond hair dripping with the blood of his kill. "That should keep the sniffer dogs busy for a while," he said, closing the panel behind them. "What?" he asked as if surprised when they stared at him in horror and disgust.

"Well, not like they hadn't had it coming. Especially that big one. No means no mate and I don't suffer idiots easy."

"You... You gutted..."

"The fire will burn off our scent. It'll be like a dead end. Anything that's left will be masked by the scent of a fresh kill. Messy, gruesome, yes. But this is war, and with werewolves son, its kill or be eaten." With a wave of his hand, rather than his wand, he muttered cleaning charms to clear away the blood. He managed to get most of it, but his hair was still tinged a bit red. He smiled, and Draco shuddered. No, he was imagining the elongated canines, he was sure of it.

"Let's go. Have to reach the edge of the wards before the sun sets and the moon rises. We'll only have a few moments of free time."

Tucking the knife back into his pocket, he pushed past Draco and they continued on in silence, the teen in the middle with his mother in the back.

Soon, or hours, time held little meaning for him now. They came to the end. To the ballroom. Now it was only a matter of timing. And luck. "Let's hope Fortuna's still smiling down on us mate. Otherwise this is going to get real ugly, real fast."

Narcissa and he shared a look as Draco unlocked the passage. A soft click echoed down the hidden corridor, and they prayed to Merlin that none on the other side had heard it. "We head straight for the conservatory. No matter what you hear, you do not slow down. Anyone gets in your way, immobilize them quickly and keep running. Do not look back."

The Malfoys nodded, and cautiously the man pushed open the paneling. It seemed clear enough, and he stepped out. Only to duck quickly as a green flash passed overhead.

"Go go go!" he shouted, forming a barrier behind which the Malfoys could take brief cover before making their break. He lowered it once they were clear, and provided cover spells as best he could. Narcissa shrieked in pain as she took a hex to her shoulder. Draco turned back to help her, deflecting as many curses as he could while this man caught up to them.

"Toby," she gasped the moment he'd managed to put up a second barrier, but it was taking a beating as the death eaters closed in. "Toby you take him and you run."

"Cissa-"

"I'm a liability," she said. "You came for Draco. Not for me. I'll slow you down, and they'll find us."

"Mother, I won't leave you. Not now. Not after this. They'll kill you."

"Not while your father lives they won't."

"I can't-"

"You CAN Draco. The mark, they'll use it to find me, and then they'll find you."

With his free hand, this man, Toby, took Draco by the arm. "Draco, come on. She's giving us a chance-"

"No!"

Toby caught Narcissa's eyes. She gave a nod. He looked away, almost ashamed. "Do it," she said. "Please."

Soon, Draco was running, Toby close on his heels. His body ran, but his mind shouted in rebellion and rage as the screams of his mother left the range of his hearing. They bolted out the doors of the conservatory, Toby throwing hexes over his shoulder. Clearing the way from behind as Draco pushed onward under another's command. Through the gardens. Beyond the gates and into the forest. The sky overhead blocked by summer leaves and branches. But the sun had set, and the moon had started to rise and soon the sound of howls filled the air behind them.

Toby clenched his jaw and kept running. Already undoing his shirt and casting it off, uncaring now if the beasts caught their scent. It didn't matter now. They were nearly to the edge. Nearly to freedom. "Draco, stop!" he shouted, hearing the wolf in his voice as he unfastened the holster strapped to his wrist. The teen stopped dead in his tracks, and the man nearly slammed into him. His back muscles constricted. He could feel his joints already starting to crack. But there was no time, now, to feel the pain as it came.

Only to ensure his valuables, his wand and his knife, were in safe and friendly hands. "Take these," he said with a strained voice, and handed the wand in its holster, then the knife from his pocket to him. "I know you can hear me still. Listen." He winced as his back popped again. "You hold them for me. You hold 'em, and you keep running. I'll be right behind. Now I-" He stopped, giving a shout of pain. "I'll release the curse, but you must keep going. That knife, it's a portkey. Do not lose it! Now go!" His voice was little more than a growl at the end. Obediently, though he'd much rather have done the opposite, Draco turned and started to run, unable to rebel. Yet.

Behind him, even as the curse was lifted, Draco heard the pained screams morph into howls that joined the others.

He knew he'd seen that man before among the pack of werewolves Greyback had brought to the manor, adding to the Dark Lord's security and ranks.

He didn't know, until forced to look at him while under the Imperius, while receiving the orders to take the wand and knife (the portkey) and keep running, that the man did not bear the Mark upon his left arm. All the wolves were made to take it if they hadn't done so already. Then how- He did not give this much thought as he heard the low growls behind him.

The howls and the snapping jaws.

One glance over his shoulder told him that he would not make it out of the forest and off the Malfoy property alive. The werewolves, replete in their sickly patches of fur and exposed ribcages ran, loping after him. Jumping up high to bury their claws into the trunks of trees before leaping off and throwing themselves in his direction.

That one glance was all it took to lose his footing on the forest floor.

That one glance was all it took to allow these bloodthirsty beasts to bear down upon him.

A mighty howl tore through the forest as Draco scrambled to get back to his feet, but only succeeded in pushing himself backwards, in the direction he had been running, along the ground. He did not know which one it was that now loomed over him, its foul breath the last thing he would smell before his innards would be spilled across the forest floor.

He closed his eyes, instinctive human fear taking hold as he waited for the jaws and the claws to come.

A loud thud, then another. Fur brushed his cheek briefly, causing him to open his eyes to see the large red wolf, its teeth sinking deep into the neck of the werewolf that had just been about to end his life.

Oh Fortuna, what had he done that she had blessed him with such good fortune this night?

The red wolf shook its head this way and that before at last releasing the sickly animal in its jaws, letting its lifeless form skid to a halt at the base of a tree as another leaped to attack this new aggressor.

The wolf turned its head, silver eyes shining as it barked angrily at him before engaging the others.

Draco managed to get to his feet and turned, running again.

He could have sworn there was a word in that bark, buried beneath the pure animalistic sound.

That word had been _run_.

**o0o**

Dawn had come when Draco at last had reached the nearby muggle town. He had not dared stop, even after leaving the wards. He dared not apparate, fearing that without this strange new protector the goddess Fortuna had seen fit to give him, he would not last very long on his own.

He had spent most of the day hiding in the cemetery behind the parish church. He thought he had been spotted, once, but realized it had only been a muggle priest come out to console a recently bereaved parent.

Starting to despair, Draco cast his thoughts wide, trying to think of a place he could seek shelter. A place of safety. A place-

"With pain killers and a good cuppa tea."

Draco jumped to his feet, spinning around to see a very battered, very bruised, and very... naked man.

"You... You walked through the town like that?!"

"Keep your voice down, mate," he said. "I'll be having those back then." He nodded towards the wand and the knife in Draco's hand. The items which he had not realized he'd been holding so tightly. Looking away, he held them out. The moment they left his hands, he let his arms fall back to his sides, unwilling to look back at the man again.

A few awkward moments passed, and Toby coughed, drawing the teen's attention back to him. He was now dressed, no doubt his odd clothes transfigured from whatever rubbish he had found laying around.

"No, I stripped a corpse and ran off with the knickers," he said sarcastically, as if reading his mind.

"No, I didn't read your mind," he said, strapping the wand holster to his wrist and tucking the knife into his belt. "Though I could. I'm no expert legillimens, but I got pretty good before I retired." He shrugged and adjusted his strangely patterned top. "I observed, you see. You had this expression on your face. I used to see it a lot, especially when I was a boy. So, naturally I deduced your thoughts. Quite correctly, I should think. Now let's go."

"Where?"

"Where? To the Order, of course. You weren't thinking we'd go back to see your friends Grey-Pup and He-With-No-Nose were you?"

"Why do you mock them so freely?! Don't you know who they are, what they can do! Because of you, my mother's going to die! My father, too, if the Dark Lord takes a mind to do so! You've ruined everything!"

"Because being a slave to a madman is definitely the correct life choice here."

"We could have stayed together! My family would be safe-"

"Until he decides your usefulness has ended. Until he makes your mother watch as you're tortured for failure. Is that what you want, little lord?" He stood with arms crossed over his chest, a hard, challenging stare from only his eyes as his face was perfectly schooled into a mask of utter calm. "Because that's not going to happen."

"We would be alive!"

"But dead inside," Toby said, glancing around to make sure no one took notice of them. "I swore an oath to your mother. I'm not going to let them get their claws in you. That mark isn't going to scar your arm and that poison isn't going to taint your soul. I won't let that happen."

"Why? Why me!"

"Because," Toby said, his stance softening. "Because your mother loves you, and knows... has known for a long time now that there's only one way this war is going to end. And when the dust is settled, and the fighting's done, what do you think is going to happen to all those happy little death eaters that survive, eh? Those that don't get put to death will spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. Any that manage to walk... there is no future for them, Draco. Don't you see that?"

"Then take me out of the country. Take me far away from this war."

"I can't. The eye of the storm is here in England. But the Dark Lord's reach is vast. Already there are foot soldiers stationed across the Atlantic. Down in Africa. In the deepest heart of the Far East. From across the globe every dark wizard, every black creature that exists is bending to his will. You are no safer Egypt than you are here."

"Anywhere but the Order. Anywhere but with Dumbledore. He isn't what he seems. I know he isn't. Sev- Professor Snape has told me everything about him. How he uses others to fight his war. Lets them die for a cause they don't fully understand. I won't escape one madman and run into the arms of another!"

Toby nodded, dropping his arms and shoving them into the pockets of his odd denim trousers. "But the Order is our only chance to get to Harry Potter."

"Potter?!"

"Well," Toby said, picking his words very carefully and ensuring that his tone made him sound perfectly reasonable in his logic. "Someone has tried to kill Potter every year since entering Hogwarts. And once when he was just a year old. His friends, too, have come close to death. But the lot of them survive. Every single time. You don't have to like the kid, but you've got to admit. The safest place to be is near him."

"Also the most dangerous," Draco muttered under his breath.

Toby could not help but laugh. "True. But if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was the son of Fortuna herself."

* * *

_**A/N -**_ So, thoughts? We welcome all reviews. This is our first foray into the more Harry Potter end of our crossover world, and would love to hear your thoughts.


	3. 2 Rest

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

They had apparated from the graveyard shortly after. Where they had arrived, Draco did not know nor recognize. Only that the place felt, no, was isolated. And there was nothing there apart from, according to Toby, a dense forest and a muggle village nearby.

"It was the first place I could think of," he replied honestly when questioned. "And it's far far away from where our scent could be picked up. Though... they'd think twice before coming after me again."

The hair on the back of Draco's neck stood on end as the man sat in the grass, seemingly oblivious to their situation, and started to check himself over for injuries.

"We're easy targets out here. When they trace the magical signature from the apparition point-"

"We did side-along. I took you with me, not the other way around, genius. Notice I didn't exactly use a lot of magic back there so they won't know my signature. My wand, also, is not on ministry record so it's not like they could match me up to any criminal databa- er... They can't look me up," he replied, now with his shirt off and his wand tip skimming over the right side of his ribcage. He sucked air sharply in through his teeth. "That'll need a proper resetting," he muttered as he moved on to another piece of exposed and bruised flesh.

Draco watched him, muttering to himself between stifled groans. Patching himself up piece by piece. The teen was, by all accounts, quite skilled in the healing arts. Nearly as proficient in them as his potions work. He had to be, going through the training the Lestrange brothers and his aunt had put him through. Yet he did not offer his assistance. He did not feel he should, given he still didn't trust this man completely. With little else to occupy his mind, he replayed the night again in his mind. The appearance of this man with his mother. The kindness, the affectionate looks they had shared briefly in the darkness and safety of the secret corridors. The Imperius curse that had been placed on him. The wolf that had saved him...

"How are we going to find them?"

"Who?" Toby asked as he'd just started on his legs which were, thankfully, less damaged. He needn't take his trousers off at least.

"The Order. The Dark Lord has been searching for their headquarters since his return. How are we meant to find them in less than a day?"

"Well, that part's easy. They're in the old Black house in London. I'm sure your mum's told you about it."

"Not particularly. She... doesn't speak much of her childhood."

Toby's bare shoulders shrugged, causing him to wince just a little. "Well, I don't know if the same rules apply since the place has a _fidelus_-"

Draco's eyes lit up as if it were Christmas. "Of course! Why didn't they consider that!"

"So I'm not going to try and say for sure. But I know where it is. The how... That's a bit trickier. Since it's got the _fidelus_ charm, no doubt the Master of Headgames has placed some real funky protection on the place. So-"

He stopped when he noticed Draco staring at him, forehead creased in concentration as pale brows had come together in thought. It was an eerie expression to see on a face so young. But gave him a warm sense of rightness. Of home. "What?"

"Your speech. It is hard to follow at times. Some of your words are... odd."

"Yes, well," Toby said realizing that yes, some of his words were a bit... modern. Like the word 'funky'. And the disregard with which he mentioned Lord Voldemort, even openly mocking his name, he could see would put anyone in this era ill at ease. "I'm foreign and some of our words don't translate well with a translator spell?"

"You're not using a translation spell," Draco easily pointed out.

"Because I'm translating in my head from... Er... Venetian?"

"I know Venetian."

"No you don't. You don't know Italian either."

"Prove it then."

"That I speak it or that you don't understand it?"

They glared at one another for long moments. Neither giving an inch. "I'm not going to have this argument with a moody, nervous sixteen year old," Toby said at last, getting to his feet and pulling his shirt back on. "I need food. And we need to make you a bit less conspicuous. Perfectly tailored clothes will only get you noticed faster, and we're working on a time table here. Transfigure your clothes into something more... muggle."

"Because clearly your clothes are perfectly normal. What is that you are even wearing on your top?"

Toby glanced down at his transfigured shirt and gave a shrug. "What? I happen to like the classic songs of bygone eras. And Taylor Swift is my spirit animal. Sort of. Okay, she was hot in her day."

Draco blinked at him in confusion before shaking his head. "Again, your language is-"

"Foreign. I'm foreign," he said, but changed his shirt into something more appropriate. A simple blue shirt with buttons down the front. It also hid his wand quite well. But he did not transfigure his denims and dragonhide boots, thank you. But they could work, sort of, if he worked it right. "If anyone asks," he said. "I'm from America."

"I thought you said you were from Venice."

"No. I'm an American who speaks Venetian. I moved to Venice. Then came here, okay." The banter continued, even after Draco altered his clothing, with much prompting that purple and green in any shade were a bad idea at the moment, into something more muggle appropriate.

They fell into a silence. Only mildly uncomfortable, as they walked side by side into the forest. Draco watched him from the corner of his eyes, noting that the man seemed to know exactly where he was going. "I suppose if fortune has seen fit to leave me in your irresponsible care, we must establish exactly who you are."

"I told you, I'm an American-"

"Yes. We went over that blatant lie. Now tell me something true," Draco said, hands in the pockets of his dark grey slacks. He wanted to get straight to the bit about his mother, but knew there were more pressing matters at hand. Such as exactly why he had done all of this. Why he had come in the first place. And why wait until near the end of the summer to enact whatever crazed plan he had concocted. And why, of all the dark creatures at the Dark Lord's call, did this one disobey and not bear the Mark?

"Because I'm a master at disguise. Well, not a master really. More of a master's apprentice. I'll never be as great as my father was. Brilliant chap, he was. See, the thing is, wizards don't really think to look for muggle stuff. Just a bit of ink in the right places. A few impervious charms to keep it from running when it's wet. And some damn good acting," Toby said, gesticulating excitedly with his hands to the questions Draco hadn't even voiced. "Again, observed. Your face is actually quite expressive. And you'd been peering at my left arm every chance you got in case you hadn't noticed."

"Would it kill you to wait for me to ask before you start running your mouth?"

Toby laughed, a small, but genuine sound. Something Draco thought he would never hear again from anyone. "Fine fine, little lord. I'll do that. So, seeing as we've a bit of a walk, ask away."

"Why don't we apparate?"

"Muggle village," he replied. "Plus, in the off chance that we do get traced here, best not leave a magical trail for muggle hating psychopaths to follow. Might get a bit messy." He gave a shrug and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The silence that followed was once again awkward. Broken briefly by Draco giving voice to questions Toby was itching to answer.

By the time they had reached the village, the sun was high in the sky. Telling of just after midday. "Finally!" Toby exclaimed when he caught sight of the stonework cottages that dotted the lane. "A proper pub! Come on, I could use a strong drink."

"I thought you'd wanted a cuppa."

"Still do. But first, scotch. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a proper scotch? March! God you'd think those animals would be kind enough to hold up a brewery with their wicked dark magic. But no... let's go terrorize a sheep and peacocks. Bloody idiots, the lot of them."

Toby ran up ahead of him, but would stop, turn around like an excited dog, and wait for him to catch up before running off again. "Oh look! Not just a pub! A tavern! Good. Will save the trouble of finding lodgings for the night as well."

"We... we're STAYING here?! I thought we were going to find Potter!" After noticing the odd looks the pair of them were starting to receive, he hurried his pace to regain his position at Toby's side. He lowered his voice. "We are on the run, thanks to you."

"And in case you hadn't noticed, I sort of have this condition that takes a heavy physical toll on my body, and causes me to be rather irritable when not fed and full of liquor."

"I'm not staying in a room with a werewolf all night!" he hissed. "I saw what you did to that thing. You'll rip me apart soon as look at me."

Toby sighed. "Safest bet is for me to stick with you," he said, putting his hand on the old oak door of the tavern. "All night. Trust me, I'm as docile as a puppy, when I take a fancy. Besides, it's just for one night."

"There's one more moon after tonight, you idiot. What then?"

"We'll be with the Order by then, and I'll have access to wolfsbane, so it hardly matters." He pushed open the door, not seeing the sudden look of fear that came upon Draco's face before the teen followed him inside.

Draco looked around at the midday drinkers. The smell of the muggle brews were an affront to his senses. He had lost sight of Toby in the dim light of the pub, but found him again when he'd managed to weave his way to the bar. "One room, two beds please mate," he said, slapping a few scraps of paper on the counter. Draco could only assume this was some form of muggle currency. "My brother and I've been traveling for days. Could use a solid rest."

The barkeep looked at him, then to Draco with a suspicious look. But one glance at the papers and he was more than obliging. Reaching beneath the counter, he pulled out a large book. Followed by a muggle quill. "Names please, sirs," he said. "For the records, of course."

"Of course," Toby said. Before Draco could open his mouth the wolf added, "Holmes."

"Homes?"

"No. Holmes. H-o-l-m-e-s." Toby peered at the book. "Yes, that's right. Mycroft, that's me. And Scorpius, that's him." Draco watched as he easily laughed, an obviously forced and false sound. "Yeah, mum always was a bit of a fanciful creature. Went through one of those phases where she was fascinated by all sorts of phantasmagoria when she was laid up with Scorp here." The barkeep, taking his word as truth, looked back to Draco and shook his head with an amused laugh. As if to say 'poor sod' before closing his book and fetching a key. A girl from the back, presumably his daughter if the slope of the nose and the shape of the head was anything to go by, showed them upstairs to their room. A small space, but comfortable enough Draco supposed.

They thanked her, and Toby dropped a coin into her open hand before closing and locking the door behind her.

"Where do you keep getting your money from? This morning you were-"

"Draco, we're wizards. Do they teach you nothing in school?... Well... Okay, so forgery isn't exactly a school appropriate subject in transfiguration. But it's a handy skill to have regardless. Just don't try it with galleons and sickles. You'll get caught in no time."

Toby settled onto one of the beds. Crawling up and stretching out with his hands folded behind his head.

"Thought you wanted a drink."

"I'll be having one, don't you worry your pretty blond head. But you need to rest. Been up all night. So have I. We'll be safe for a while yet."

**o0o**

Draco didn't realize how exhausted he had truly been until he felt the cold nose pushing against his arm. The brush of fur as the large beast settled itself on the floor between the two narrow beds. He'd lifted his head to see the room illuminated by moonlight.

Yet it had been half through the day when he'd stretched across the bed. He moved his hand away from where it hung, just inches above the large wolf curled up beside his bed. His stomach growled at him, demanding nourishment even as he rolled over onto his back. Blearily he looked up at the ceiling. Plain and white and so very ordinary.

Then, the events of the last day and night crashed into him, causing him to sit up on the bed quickly. Eyes wide and searching before finally realizing that if the beast which guarded him so stubbornly had wanted him dead, it would have done so long before now.

He glanced over at it, and quietly asked, "Toby?"

It lifted its head briefly to turn and blink at him. The moonlight streaming in through the single window catching the silver eyes before it laid its head back down.

His stomach growled at him again. Reaching back beneath his pillow, he removed his wand and whispered, "Lumos," before giving the room another look.

There on the small table near the door stood an empty bottle and a well used glass. And a half eaten meal.

Draco climbed out of bed, careful not to step on the wolf, to see more of what sat on the wooden tray. Bread and cheese. A few bits of meat, though what they were he could not quite tell. Glancing back, he saw the wolf watching him. He picked up a piece of cheese and nibbled at it before shoving it into his mouth.

Food, real food. Edible food. Food with a flavour. Food that wouldn't make him ill. He stuffed his face as if he hadn't even eaten the gruel he'd been given for months. Hardly taking notice of the tea sitting off to the side. Stone cold, of course, but that could be remedied with a small utterance.

When he'd finished, he slumped into the chair at the table, knowing he wouldn't feel too well soon after gorging himself. But after this last summer... he could not trust when he would see such simple pleasures again.

"Tomorrow," he said sleepily, his hunger and thirst now sated. "We'll find Potter and the Order." He leaned back in the chair, a hand over his stomach and let the light of his wand go out. The room once more bathed in moonlight, and his eyes adjusted.

Draco still worried for his mother. He still did not trust this Toby, whose presence had a sense of intimate familiarity despite having never met before. But he also knew that to worry, to let these thoughts and misgivings in now would only make his situation worse. There would be time to fall apart, to panic and to feel the fear he continuously stomped back down later. When he was safe, or something thereabouts.

For now, he got up and crawled back onto his bed for the night. Secure in the knowledge that should anything come for him now, there stood a rather stubborn, rather large dog in its way.

He drifted back into a fitful slumber.

And if in the middle of a nightmare, a dream of his mother at the mercy of a torturous master, he felt a cold nose and a brush of fur against his arm, he did not wake to complain.

**o0o**

Dawn saw the appearance once more of the naked man. Less bruised and battered than before, but still looking the worse for wear as he pulled on his denim trousers.

He was half dressed when he shook Draco awake with a low growl to his voice. "Arse up, your lordship. We've gotta do a runner."

"Wha?" Draco asked blearily as he rolled onto his side. Thankfully his back was to the window, and he would not be blinded too terribly by the early morning sun.

"I said arse up, we gotta make a break. Someone's tracked us."

"But you said-"

"Sod what I said. We gotta go. Grab your wand, grab your shite, and _let's go_."

He was frantically pulling on his shirt, fumbled with the buttons and then left the rest undone. Quickly he'd sat to pull on his boots, even as the shouting began outside. Below in the street. He moved quickly, boots not even buckled as he pressed his back against the wall beside the window. Taking a quick look out and ducking back again. "Shoulda known... shoulda bloody well known..."

"What?" Draco demanded as he finished dressing himself. It hadn't taken much, since he'd only removed his shoes and shirt before laying down the previous afternoon.

"The trace, you dolt. You're under seventeen. Shoulda figured that into the plans. Salazar I've been a fool."

"Right. Well, too late to do anything about it now. We need to go. We need to use the portkey."

"Can't."

"Why not?!"

"Because it's a one use only. It's going to get us into the Order's headquarters... hopefully. Look, I'm sort of having to make this up as we go."

"Obviously," Draco sneered, grabbing his wand. "Well, we'll have to either apparate before they get up here or fight our way out. Which will it be?"

"We apparate, we'll be followed. We'll have to fight, then apparate. I've got a decent place, I think, that we could go. Just to hide for a bit. We have to time our attempt to get into Number 12 Grimmauld-" He cut himself off suddenly. Frowning, then grinning. Then absolutely beaming despite the fact that now the wizards that had arrived in the village were searching house by house for them. "What do you know!" he exclaimed excitedly like a puppy with a giant bone. "I can say it! I can actually say it! Oh this is... Oh Fortuna you're beautiful!" The last he exclaimed while looking up at the ceiling, addressing the abstract idea of the goddess herself. "Better than a triple homicide for Christmas followed by a serial bomber. Oh yes!"

"What are you on about?! I'm tired of your repeated attempts to confuse me. I demand to know what-"

"I have no idea, but I've got a theory. Four theories. No... no, three theories. But I can't test them out yet. Because we have to time this perfectly. And I'm not sure about the current how, but I'm pretty damn sure about the why."

He pulled out his wand, brandishing it like a sword before giving Draco a most unsettling and manic grin. "Let us go forth unto the breach, my lord. After all, you did spend your summer learning the dark arts most wicked. Let's put them to use, shall we?"

**o0o**

They had barely escaped with their lives. Draco didn't know if this man was incompetent or completely insane. Either way, he was certain that there was more than just luck on their side when he felt the pure and undiluted power, a dark and heavy thing, emanating from this man during the skirmish. Yet, he did not kill these men that had come for them. Draco had seen enough killing. Had seen enough death and torture during this last year to last a lifetime. He did not wish to see much more so soon. If ever.

And as if a loyal dog obeying its master's command, Toby had showed restraint. He had not killed... He had only maimed. And as they ran, into the forest once more for a clear and secret place to apparate from, he had given a fearful warning. More wolves would roam the halls of Malfoy Manor on the next moon. It could not be helped, to inflict such vicious damage during a moon cycle.

Draco reminded him he didn't need to use his own hands when he had a wand to do it for him.

They had left the forest from behind a dense bush; twisting and turning in the wake of a thunderous pop before arriving in a place full of light and life and noise. A place behind a fence to keep the unwanted out. Charred wood and broken walls. A ruin. A testament of a battle past.

Draco moved to stand beside a shattered window, the frame charred and the wood around it cracked and twisted. He peered out into the garden. "Where-" he began, but cut himself off when he heard a groan, followed by a thud behind him.

He turned quickly on his heel, just in time to see his companion slump forward on his knees, a hand to his side. "You've been splinched!" Draco exclaimed.

"No, no, it'll be alright. Happens... sometimes." He waved Draco away when the teen had come closer to examine him. "I'm not bloody splinched!" he growled when Draco pulled his hand away from his side to reveal a growing, spreading patch of red. "Guess I missed one. Followed us to the forest."

"You didn't smell him?"

"Too pumped with adrenaline. Too worried about getting you out."

"Why all this for me? You're going to get yourself killed. I'm not- I'm not important."

Toby smiled weakly, a knowing smile that Draco could not puzzle out. But it slipped from his features as he closed his eyes. Draco carefully caught him before he fell back, and gently laid him on the floor. For all this man's faults, for all his eccentricities and secrets, he still owed Toby his life. His freedom. He couldn't very well let him crack his skull on a piece of rubble in a ramshackle ruin.


	4. 3 Wards

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

Draco had cast a few basic healing spells, just to stop the bleeding. Just to patch him up. It was nothing like what he had witnessed the man doing to himself before. But it had been better than nothing at all. Afterwards he took to investigating their newest hiding place further. At close inspection, he was able to discover that this had once been a house. A wizarding house, judging by the fragments of photographs. Some of which still had figures moving in them... though obviously looking distressed.

A burned out staircase led up to a missing upper level. And a door, close to where Toby lay resting, he presumed led to a cellar below. He wanted to explore further, to go outside and see the remains of the building from the outside. Perhaps he might even recognize the area - but he dared not do so. It was far too dangerous, he knew. And until he was safely, if not unwanted, in the hands of the Order he would not risk falling back into the arms of the Dark Lord's followers.

"Won't. Here," Toby mumbled after a few hours of rest. Draco had seated himself on the opposite wall, legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Watching the sleeping man as he counted down the hours until the sun would begin to dip low in the sky. Until he'd be stranded, once again, with a werewolf.

He didn't bother to ask, this time, what the man was on about. He did not want to sound like a parrot repeating the same few words over and over again. Instead, he waited. Keen grey eyes watching as the man stirred. Groaning as he moved; moaning as he pulled himself into a sitting position with his back pressed against the nearest wall. "We're safe here. It's one of the few places He fears."

Draco looked away when the steady silver gaze met his own. "The Dark Lord fears nothing."

"He fears a boy. And rightly so." He checked his pockets, panicking when he found his knife was not there. A quick gesture from Draco, removing it from where he had tucked it into his belt, reassured the wolf that the portkey was safe. "Rightly so."

"Potter is little more than a mediocre wizard with sheer dumb luck."

"Potter is..." he trailed off, catching Draco's attention. "Complicated."

"He's a spoiled prat. He gets points for breaking rules while the rest of us have to sit in detention. Receive punishments from less than acceptable professors. He's the Headmaster's favorite simply because he's Harry bleeding Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Everyone adores him, and pampers him and-"

"Jealous much?" Toby's tone was light and full of mirth. Draco hissed angrily at him.

"How much longer must I endure your dreadful company?"

He shrugged. "Much, much longer. I promised your mother-"

"And about my mother!" Draco snapped, having already been wound up about Harry it was easy to vent his frustrations into another topic. "You keep your filthy mongrel hands off my mother! Just because my father is in Azkaban-"

"What? Cousins can't show kindness and compassion to each other? Well, that's certainly old fashioned thinking. Then again, with all the inbreeding... no surprise you're a bit on edge."

"On edge? On edge! I saw the way you looked at her!"

"I assure you, there is nothing between me and Cissa! I'm a married man and I love my wife and children very much!"

"No one is allowed to call- Wait, what?"

Toby gave him a wolfish grin. "I'm married. I have a wife, whom I absolutely worship. And seven wonderful, intelligent and strong willed children."

"...Oh..."

"Exactly."

"So who exactly are you then?"

"Certainly not your mother's lover."

Draco felt his cheeks flush, but bit back his embarrassment. "You said cousin? I wasn't aware mother had any other cousins. Living, at least."

Toby shook his head with a sigh. "Distant cousins," he said, spinning the yarn he had spent months planning out in his mind. "Very distant branch of the Black family, from southern France. Burned off the wall, I believe. Much like your aunt Andromeda. While your dear cousin Nymphadora Tonks is roaming free, we couldn't allow the last of the true Blacks to fall in with the wrong sort of wizards now could we? Family honor was at stake." He paused. Draco could see the moment this man slipped into deep concentration. His brows furrowed, then suddenly relaxed. The tenseness left his body, if only briefly, and he seemed to be so far away yet present with Draco all at once. "Draco, what time is it?"

"You've got a wand," he said. "Cast your own tempus charm."

"They never quite work right for me. You do it."

Draco narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then sighed. But his sigh was more than just exasperation. It was exaggerated - a sound made as if his companion were asking far too much of him. And that all of what he was asking had been so mundane and beneath him that it was not even worth the energy it took to think about how to properly complain about it. He cast the appropriate charm, parroting the information back to him.

"Good. We've a solid ten minutes then. Help me up."

"Get yourself up."

"Draco..."

"No. I don't trust you. I don't like you. I'm only putting up with you until I get to safety. Then you're on your own. Besides, you might decide I smell good and take a bite."

"If I'd wanted to _take a bite_ do you think I'd have bothered to get you this far?"

"Tenderizing the meat?"

"That just sounds... You know what you ungrateful little clod pole, I'm not even going to bother arguing. I've got a headache the size of a house and I'm in no shape to risk death by breaking my vow. So let's just work together now and kill one another after the war alright."

Draco watched as he pushed against the wall, trying to get to his feet unaided. It took a bit of doing, but he managed with a bit of a stagger. "Bring me the knife," Toby said, one hand pressed against the wall, the other reaching out. Waiting to be filled. "What are you waiting for? We've only got one shot at this, and I'll be damned if I have to go to my backup plan."

"You mean this is the first plan you came up with? What's the backup plan?"

"It involves vampires, hedgehogs, and a very angry leprechaun. Please Draco. I haven't the time nor the energy to waste."

Hesitantly, the teen moved closer, holding the knife out handle first. That was a mistake, as when the wolf's hand grasped it, he pulled with a slight slashing motion, cutting Draco's hand in the process. "You stupid-"

"I know I know. Somebody gets hold of a wizard's blood, bad things go down. My grandparents wrote the book on dark arts and necromancy. But I've worked damn hard on this, and there's just no other way. The Black family's ancient blood wards require Black family blood," Toby said, cutting his own hand. "Dumbles is smart. Too smart. But I'm clever and if we're lucky I'm just clever enough to have found a way around his hold on good old Number 12. It's not the worst you've endured the last few months, your little lordship." He smirked. Mentally ticking down the minutes until the portkey would activate. "Hold on and for the love of Merlin don't you dare let go. Might find your head with the Order while your arse ends up stuck in the Potter's cottage."

Before Draco could further protest or question, Toby had grabbed his uninjured hand and pressed it to the handle of the knife, then placed his own larger hand over it. His palm and fingers stung from where they had been sliced open. Throbbing as his blood flowed freely from his hand, falling away into the void as they were sucked through space. Moving across the distance from wherever this place was to wherever his mother's family's home sat.

**o0o**

In the moments following Albus Dumbledore's leaving Number 12, Grimmauld Place there was a great commotion as the semi-sentient magic of the wards cried out. Screaming as they were ripped through from the outside. Aurors were on alert as members of the Order searched room by room for the source of this.

Walburga Black's shrill voice exploded from the portrait behind her curtains as the very foundation of the house shook under the assault. The fires in the grates of every room burst into life before dying back as two figures appeared in the kitchen, hovering at first over the long table before dropping quite forcefully down. The larger figure's limbs were wrapped tightly around the smaller as if to protect them. Two distinctly different hands clutched the hilt of a knife tightly for dear life.

Molly Weasley had screamed when they had appeared.

Mad Eye had pushed forward and thrust his wand against the pale cheek of the teenager who had fallen from the larger figure's protective hold when they had hit the table.

Chaos had erupted as some tried to repair the wards. Others stood ready to attack the intruders. And the hairs on the back of Remus Lupin's neck stood on end as he caught the scent of a fell creature in the kitchen.

"Draco safe?" was all the man had uttered before losing consciousness. But his presence mattered little compared to that of his teenaged charge.

Draco Malfoy lay unmoving on the floor where he had landed, surrounded by paranoid aurors. "Check him!" Mad Eye crowed, his false eye darting this way and that. He could see clearly that Draco did not bear the Dark Mark his father was so famous for wearing with pride. But the paranoid old bastard had been fooled before, by polyjuice nonetheless. And he wasn't going to take any chances with this one. "Go on!"

Bill Weasley, the only one with enough sense to check and see if the boy was even still alive, confirmed their fears. It was indeed Draco Malfoy - but blessedly, there was no Mark to try and conceal.

**o0o**

Draco's head was spinning when he awoke. The last thing he remembered was leaving the ruined house. Traveling by portkey and, when they were nearly there, discovering the wards in place were far stronger than Toby had anticipated. Did they make it through? Or were they forced elsewhere? Quickly he sat up, immediately regretting his decision and lay back down against the musty pillow.

He closed his eyes, breathed slow, and tried to will the world into submission. For he did not want it spinning at all, let alone as quickly as it had chosen to do.

Turning over onto his side, he found himself quite sore all over. His stomach lurched, and he felt the need to expel its contents. But swallowed the feeling back. That is, until he felt the probing at the edges of his thoughts. Different from the violent raping of his memories he had endured in his own home, but an unwelcome intrusion nonetheless.

He clenched his eyes tighter, curling in on himself as he struggled to keep his thoughts to himself. To think of nothing - but the more he tried, the more he found it impossible to do.

Just when he felt he could fight no more, he opened his eyes to see, chained to the wall across the room from him, a rather annoyed looking red wolf. Though, how he knew Toby was annoyed, he could not hope to guess really. But... if he were chained up, he'd be rather annoyed, too.

Slowly getting his bearings, he discovered that his wand was confiscated. He could not even use it to see the time of day or night.

Further inspection of his surroundings showed that he was certainly not back in his childhood home. Perhaps they had made it through after all? He relaxed just a little, breathing easy. At least this place didn't look like another of the Death Eater safe houses. And despite his companion's chains, he was relatively safe. "Later," he said, finding his voice hoarse. "You and I are going to have a serious discussion about what exactly is going on and why you feel the need to both save and ruin my life at the same time."

"Talking to dogs now are we Mal_foy_?"

His eyes snapped open, his body tensed as he heard the all too familiar and hateful voice of one Ronald Weasley. He sat up again, swallowing back the bile that threatened once more to come up from the sudden movement. Toby growled from his place across the room, but didn't bother to lift his head. Silver eyes watching the closed door, where Weasley believed himself to be completely safe on the other side.

"If there's ever someone you do kill when I'm not looking," Draco muttered under his breath as he listened for the footsteps to trail away. "That's the one."

The wolf seemed to smile at him with only his eyes, showing Draco exactly how much of the man was truly present within the beast. Draco lay back again, sleep coming uneasily even under the watchful gaze of his canine guardian.

**o0o**

He came to with lungs full of dust and wolf musk. That indefinable scent he had become accustomed to while living the lie as one of Lord Voldemort's savage dogs. Just to get into the manor. Just to get close to Narcissa Malfoy. But now... No, this one was different. Cleaner, for one thing, than the others. And did not carry the stink of a large pack but rather...

"You're awake," said the man crouching beside him.

He lifted his head just barely, the heavy iron collar on his neck preventing him from doing more. "Release me," he growled, trying to look up at the face of the man who he knew was another like himself. Another beast in the skin of a man until the next full moon. "I won't-"

"According to Tonks you tried to take Mad Eye's arm off."

"He tried to harm Draco."

"And you were protecting him."

"You'd do the same for Potter," Toby challenged, lifting his head just a little higher. "You can either release me, or I'll release myself. But one way or the other I'm gonna get a pair of pants because this floor is freezing my bits."

"I'll bring you some clothes."

"And my wand."

"That's up to-"

"Dumbles, yeah. I figured. Not like I need it," he said, challenge in his voice. But he was careful not to raise his tone, not to make himself louder... Draco was still sleeping. "Is he safe? Is he-"

"For now."

"Good," Toby muttered, lowering his head again. Remus stood upright, still sore himself from the painful transition of man to beast and back again the night before. "I meant it," the stranger said when Lupin reached the door. "I'll get this thing off myself if no one else does it for me."

"That's iron molded over silver. Unless you'd like to lose an eye and a couple of fingers, I don't see the point in trying." He opened the door stepping out quickly so that another man could enter. He closed the door behind him carefully so as not to wake up the teen in the bed.

"Stupid stupid boy," he hissed, black robes billowing with each step he took. Purple, red, and blue vials held tightly in his hands. "What were you thinking-"

"Well, for one, would you mind getting me some pants?"

"I wasn't talking to you, mongrel."

"Oi!" he snapped, and Draco started to stir. So he lowered his voice. "I saved his arse from a fate worse than death. And trust me, it's better Moldy Voldy get his knickers in a twist instead of poor Draco 'ere getting branded as a slave."

"How did you force your way inside? The headquarters are under the _fidelus_-"

"I'm a Black. How the bloody hell do you think I got us in here? Sheer dumb luck?"

That greasy head turned and at last the potions master looked at him for the first time since entering the room. "You could have killed him."

"And you're going to if you mix all four of those at once you idiot. Any decent student of the natural magical arts knows you don't want to give the blood replenisher at the same time as the blood thinner. As a matter of fact, you shouldn't be giving him the green one at all before checking for internal injuries and deep tissue bruising."

"And what should I be giving him then?" he challenged, eyes narrowed as if sizing up his prey.

"Well for one he's been nauseas every time he sits up so you'll want to check for a concussion. Then you'll need to mix a small amount of skelegrow in with the blood replenisher. I know they say don't mix the two, but what they don't tell you in healer training is that by using the replenisher at the same time you stimulate the creation of natural blood vessels which, according to muggle science, are created within the bones themselves. Thus you don't need to use as much of the replenisher. Also, you haven't put poppy into that pain relieving potion have you? Because it can cause severe side effects if taken in large doses. I mean, severe addiction to the opium as well as hallucinations and withdrawal sickness when no longer on the potion."

Those eyes had narrowed further as he prattled on and on. Of course Snape knew the risks of using poppy in pain relieving potions, which is why his personal recipes did not include such an ingredient. As for the mixing of the skelegrow and the replenisher... The mention of muggle science had intrigued him. But he did not allow this to show. Instead, "Where were you trained?"

"I'm an American who lived in Venice, and my branch of the family comes from the south of France."

"There are no Blacks in the south of France."

"The extreme south?"

"Liar."

"I..." Finally Toby looked away from the potions professor, finding him even less desirable company than in his future portraits. "Dabbled after completing my education. It was a family trade. We endeavored to combine muggle science with potion lore."

Then, he was promptly ignored. Though he did notice that the green bottle remained untouched. And the skilled fingers had felt around the back and sides of Draco's head. His sallow face gave nothing away, unfortunately. So Toby sighed and put his head back down, waiting for the man to leave so that he may rid himself of the heavy iron collar and chain.

He did not need to wait much longer. The moment the door shut and locked behind, Toby's hands were on the collar. He'd had to roll onto his back in order to properly grasp it at either side of his neck. Apparently it had been charmed to grow with him, and to retract when he returned to his normal state. He pulled with all his might, hoping that what strength he had left from the moon cycle would at least provide a little give to the metal. After this he tried every lock-breaking spell he knew with no success. Casting his gaze as wide as he could, he spotted a quill beneath the wardrobe.

After a quick _accio_ he was using it in conjunction with an improvised skeleton key made of wood to try and pick the lock on his collar. He'd nearly gotten it when the door opened again and clothes were tossed at him by a motherly looking woman. He could only assume this was Molly Weasley.

"Thank you," he said.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has sent for you," she said, keeping her eyes averted. "An auror will be here shortly to release you and bring you down."

He fumbled with the clothes, finding them not quite to his liking but better than remaining starkers in chains like some sexual deviant. Not that he minded... just not quite in this situation. True to her word, an auror came. None other than the paranoid Mad Eye Moody himself. The collar was removed, only to be replaced with iron manacles. He didn't bother to point out that these were bloody useless unless, like the chain and collar, it was iron molded over silver.

But his neck was free, so that was a tick in the plus column. "May I?" he said, looking towards Draco.

Mad Eye gave him a grunt and pushed him towards the door. It was locked behind them before Toby was marched down the hall to the stairs. Shadows at the bottom of doors, and half-seen figures in cracked passages told him that many of the inhabitants, most likely Weasleys, were watching and listening.

As they marched down the stairs, then across another landing, Toby stopped and inhaled deeply. Then, smiled and moved on. "Potter's here, isn't he?" he asked as if it were the most normal thing to say in the world. He knew Harry had arrived sometime during the night. He'd recognize that comforting, familiar scent anywhere. Moody pushed him on. "What? I'm just trying to make polite conversation.

"Save yer words for Albus," he snarled behind him. So Toby jovially chatted, knowing full well it got on the auror's nerves, all the way down the stairs until at last he was brought before a door. The sitting room, he remembered. At least, it had been when he'd last been in this house.

The door was opened and he was pushed in. Inside sat Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Albus Dumbledore. With a pot of tea.

"Welcome," the Headmaster said politely with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"You know," Toby said giving the best smirk he could conjure, a look which had caused Lupin's eyes to go wide in response. "I do believe my grandparents were right."

"Right about what, my boy?"

"You are shorter in person." That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. He'd had a few choice words ready for this moment. But now, he realized, would not be the ideal time to unleash them. "Now then, I do believe you wish to interrogate me while attempting to put me at ease with a nice cuppa and some candies. Sorry, I'll pass on the candies, but the tea would be divine."


	5. 4 Veritas

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

_**SPECIAL AUTHORS' NOTE FROM THE START:**_ We've had someone complain about some scenes seeming to just get really good and then we jump to another without explaining anything as to how they escaped or who said what next or whatever. Well, _**there's a reason for that**_. And it's actually plot relevant. Not only is it plot relevant, it's actually a pretty darn big deal and magical and important to Draco's characterization in our AU, so shut it and be patient. We'll be getting there, and you'll see how it all comes together. I won't single out who complained. _They know their shame_. Now please, continue reading our lovely fic._**  
**_

* * *

Harry had risen from his bed to peer into the hall at the first sound of footsteps. He had heard, but hadn't yet seen, that Draco Malfoy had been locked into one of the more secure rooms in the headquarters. Ron had told him as much when he'd arrived with Dumbledore. He'd just pressed his ear to the wood, hearing muffled voices through it, when he remembered the words of warning Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him when he'd come through the door.

The footsteps were gone, soon to be replaced by a knock at his door. Standing back he opened it to see his two best friends, and an extra Weasley. The three pushed their way in, Hermione chattering excitedly about the man Moody had just taken to meet the headmaster. Ron and Ginny inserting their own thoughts on the matter, and what they'd been told by their older brother and parents.

The four of them settled on Harry's bed, continuing their conversation. More and more Hermione expressed her worries, and Ron did his best to reassure her.

"He's out of it, 'Mione. Fred and George reckon he's gone totally bodmin, taking to the werewolf when he was all fur and teeth like he can understand him."

"He might," Hermione replied. "Remember third year? When Professor Lupin started to change, and for a few moments Sirius was able to get through to him?"

"But he still changed and tried to eat us, didn't he?"

Harry listened to the familiar argument, but tuned it out and turned to Ginny. "What does your mum have to say?"

"Well," she said, leaning in and linking arms with him. "Apparently when they arrived, they shattered the wards on the house. Completely destroyed them, so she says. And all the fireplaces shot up full of flame. And Mrs. Black started screeching, but she does that anyway so it hardly matters. Next thing, there they are. Floating over the kitchen table then WHAM! Bill says they hit so hard Malfoy broke an arm. And he sliced his hand up pretty good, too. Both of them did."

"They didn't look too good, either," Hermione added. "Both of them looked half starved. I wonder what happened to him..."

Ron grinned, his mind conjuring a few rather amusing ideas. "With any luck, something that knocked Malfoy off his pedestal."

His sister reached out and pinched his arm, giving it a twist. Ron shouted in surprise and a pain, rubbing at the place where she'd got him. "What was that for?!"

"You know who's living in his house! I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!"

"Our worst enemy IS living in his house," Ron barked back.

A ginger head poked into the room from the door, followed by another identical one. "Hey, they're bringing Malfoy down next."

Harry watched his friends. Ron grinning from ear to ear. Hermione shaking her head with a sigh. Ginny seemed to be the only one who really didn't give a toss. "Guys," he said. "Let's not... You know. It sounds like he's been through a lot."

"Harry, he's been tormenting us for the last five years. He and his friends got us caught by Umbridge, and his dad's the reason Sirius-"

"Don't you think I know that!" Harry snapped, cutting his friend off suddenly. He could feel his anger trying to get the better of him. Ron was right. Malfoy had bullied them from day one. But from what he had heard after his arrival, the condition the other boy had been in when they'd come seeking safety... He couldn't allow it. He didn't have to like him, he didn't have to get along with him. But he didn't have to let his friends stoop to Malfoy's level.

"Well?" one of the twins, Fred, asked.

"Leave him alone." Harry drew in a few breaths, calming himself. "He's injured. And maybe, just maybe, having to be here is going to force him to be nice. Let's wait and see how things go. There's more important problems than Draco Malfoy."

Ron looked disappointed. Hermione gave a nod, showing that this was the answer she'd hoped for. Harry looked to Ginny again. She didn't seem at all pleased, but gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "As long as he doesn't try to start anything, I'll leave him alone. But the moment he opens his mouth about my family..." She let the unspoken warning hang in the air.

It was the best Harry could hope for.

**o0o**

Half-way through Dumbledore's interrogation, he'd ordered Snape and Lupin to leave. The potions master was more than happy to oblige until the headmaster had tacked on that he bring Draco in shortly. Remus, on the other hand, was wary to leave an unknown werewolf with the leader of the Order.

Especially when that werewolf had discovered a way to evade the questions put to him, despite the veritaserum Dumbledore had made Snape put in the tea before the young man had been brought in.

Once the room was cleared, and a cheery farewell from the stranger given to the two men leaving, Dumbledore focused his full attention upon him.

"You know," Toby said, taking another sip of his tea. "I know this excellent Irish blend that matches well with the potion you put in this. Masks the tang a bit better than earl grey."

"You can taste it? I was assured-"

"Oh, most people can't I'm sure," Toby said, setting his cup onto the saucer in his lap. Then leaning forward to place the saucer on the small table between his chair and the other three. The chain binding his wrists rattled with his movement. "But my grandmother used to spike the tea whenever there was a problem with the family. Probably gained the idea from you, I suspect. This is very fine china, if you don't mind my saying. Though, real bone china is far more durable than this conjured stuff."

Dumbledore sat back in his seat, stroking his beard as blue eyes took in the sight before him. The man was tall, but held his limbs awkwardly, as if he were not quite used to their size. And he wore a constant smile, and gave an air of joviality. But his silver gaze told another, darker story. A man who had seen far too much before his time. A man burdened with more responsibility than he was ready for.

It was a look he often saw in young Harry's eyes as well. The sad look of a man, a boy beaten down by life. Perhaps... if he played this right-

"Don't even bother trying to sway me over. You're not called the Master of Headgames for nothing. And for the love of Salazar stop trying to look into my head. It's not going to bloody work so just ask the damn questions already. I mean, that is what I'm here for. You didn't want to know where I'd trained or where I come from. You hadn't expected me to be so compliant. Veritaserum usually causes the drinker to experience pain and often times convulse until the antidote is given. It's why you used the fake china rather than the real china from the good cabinet."

As he'd been speaking, Toby fixed him with a fierce silver stare before looking away again. He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, then brushed imaginary dirt off his trousers. He examined the room closely without ever leaving his seat. Scrutinizing the clearly old world decor and mentally comparing it to his uncles' tastes years from now. It was quite an odd feeling, when he realized, knowing that Walburga Black would, in roughly a decade, be replaced with a painting of her disowned son Sirius.

"And be specific. Your question about who I am had the lads bored to tears."

"Yes, that was a very clever diversion-"

"No, it's called open to interpretation. If you want my identity, ask for it. If you don't want my life story, don't say the word _who_. A man is the sum total of his memories, experiences, and his personal social network. Without those, a man is not a who but rather a loose cloud of ideas and nothing more. _So. Be. Specific_."

He knew he was being a right prat. He knew he was being absolutely unhelpful. Most of all he knew he was telling the absolute truth because despite his high tolerance of the stuff thanks to his rather crafty Gryffindor grandmother, he could not outright lie. And, of course, squabbling over the definition of words and the actual interpretations were rather amusing to him, and a very exploitable weakness in the validity of veritaserum. Always had been.

So, it began. Again. The same questions, simply phrased differently. And it went on like this until there came a knock at the door. Toby craned his neck to see, having purposely been placed in the chair with its back to the door. A gruff looking woman plodded in, moved one of the chairs from beside the headmaster to place it next to Toby.

And Draco, looking the worse for wear, was put into it. He leaned over, having to reach out with both hands rather than the one due to the chain, and lightly touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

Dumbledore watched the sudden shift in the man's personality. From arrogant and comical to compassionate and concerned. The tone of his voice as it dropped to a whisper. Quietly, worriedly assuring himself that the boy was comfortable. That he was rested. All but the two Order members who had brought Draco in left them again. And the Headmaster gave a little cough to get both young men's attention.

"I know the game you're playing at," Toby growled.

"What game would that be then?"

Draco's head snapped up as he felt the familiar sensation of fingers combing through his mind; grey eyes locked in a heated glare at the headmaster. A look of pure contempt and hatred on his face before Dumbledore's face took on a stricken look. And Toby knew what the man had just done. He could not force himself into the werewolf's mind to see what he wanted. So he took from the boy instead.

"You filthy, vile-"

"Toby don't. It's not..."

"You all but violated him!" Toby snarled, but did not rise from his chair.

"And you ripped the wards of this house apart like a hot knife slices through butter. Leaving our headquarters defenseless. You have been uncooperative-"

"That gives you no right to force yourself into another man's memories! A man's mind is his sacred palace! And should be treated with respect!"

"The enemy believes otherwise-"

"As do you, you doddering old fool!" His voice was filled with rage. One hand gripped the armrest of his chair, fingers digging into the cloth, then the wood as if they still bore the powerful claws of his full moon form. His other hand clenched into a fist, unable to reach the other armrest, the length of chain too short to allow him even that small distance. His nails dug into his already tender flesh, reopening the self-inflicted wound that had enabled him to, as many had put it, rip apart the wards to gain entry.

Nostrils flared as he exercised the most restraint he had ever put forth. "Draco," he all but snarled, and the teen tensed in horror. Once again sensing, feeling the full depth of the darkness of the man's power. The wild ferocity of his magic.

"No!" Draco shouted with more courage than he felt. But he knew this man listened to him, for whatever reason, and would obey his commands despite his own feelings otherwise. "Calm yourself! You are not an animal, you are a man! Now act like one!"

Toby continued to grip the armrest and clench his hand, but he relaxed, some. There was no other option. After a hard look from the teen, he gave a small nod of his head and closed his eyes. He exhaled a shaky breath and slumped back in submission. But not defeat. "As you wish," he muttered under his breath when he felt it were safe enough to speak.

Dumbledore raised his hand to signal to the two guards, who had moved to flank him during the werewolf's anger, to stand down. "Now let's start again," the Headmaster said calmly, as if the last five minutes had never happened. "Who are you?"

Toby would not look at him, for fear of becoming so violently angry again. "My name is Tobias Black." It wasn't a complete lie... Not really. His middle name had been Tobias. And technically, he had been called Lord Black despite the lack of the actual surname. "And a werewolf."

"Yes, that was quite obvious from your attack on Alistair shortly after your transformation yesterday evening." He reached into the seat beside him to pull out a small paper bag of sweets. He offered one to Draco, but the teen had enough sense to decline.

"Why did you risk your life to save young Mr. Malfoy?"

"I swore to his mother I'd get him the fu... I'd get him out of there before the Mark was forced on him."

"It's true, headmaster. Before they had come to collect me my mother and Toby had hidden me in passages and cupboards scattered throughout the manor."

Albus nodded. At least that suspicion had been confirmed. "Now then, my boy," he said, addressing Draco directly. "Where is your mother?"

The two were silent. Swallowing hard, Draco answered. "She remained behind. Providing cover for our escape from the manor and onto the grounds. She..."

"She and I had not planned for her to leave with us. The Mark connects her to the Dark Lord, and it would have been counterproductive to rescue her son only to lead Tom Riddle straight to him in the end."

Toby watched Dumbledore from the corner of his eye. He wanted to see the man's reaction to the Dark Lord's true name. He received nothing of use, and filed away the excess data for later reflection. "I took Draco to an isolated place I am familiar with. We then spent the night in a muggle tavern to recuperate from months spent suffocating in the Dark Lord's poisonous atmosphere. We fed, we drank, we slept. The following morning wizards arrived searching for us. In my planning, I had forgotten that Draco is yet only sixteen, and still has the underage wizard trace on him. We were found. We fought to escape with minimal muggle injuries. We ran to the forest and apparated to another secure location. Does that answer your questions of our whereabouts following our escape? We didn't abandon Narcissa. She helped me to plan it all."

He was bluffing, some. She had indeed known she would need to separate from her son. But they had hoped to have gotten out together. To have more time. To explain the situation properly. Not this ramshackle mess...

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "Your swore to Mrs. Malfoy to rescue her son. Was this a binding oath or did you simply give your word?"

Draco looked at him expectantly. Toby turned his head, just enough, to watch him. "It... It was an Unbreakable Vow."

"Who officiated?"

Toby cast his eyes to the empty chair that Snape had been seated in. Then back again to Dumbledore. "We- I cast the _Imperius_ on one of the other werewolves in the pack. She had no idea she was doing it. Then after... Narcissa _obliviated _all traces from her memory. We did not know Professor Snape could be trusted, else we would have turned to him for help. He plays his part very well."

"You have been quite lucky to have gotten this far on your own," Dumbledore said. "Why have you come here?"

Draco was the one who answered. "Sanctuary."

"How are we to provide sanctuary if we have no defenses?"

"Blood wards," Draco said simply. And indeed it was once he knew the method Toby had used, the slicing of their hands to create a decent bloodflow, to undermine the headmaster's wards by breaking those of the ancestral magic itself. "We broke them. We can repair them. We are both members of the Black bloodline. The ancestral magic will recognize us, and allow us to restore the wards. Perhaps even strengthen them. We use the same system at Malfoy Manor... or... we used to."

"What if you are spies sent to sabotage our headquarters? This house is unplottable, and was placed under a _fidelus _charm. None but the secret keeper may speak its location. It puzzles me, how you came into this knowledge when we have taken great pains to keep it concealed."

"I..." Draco turned his attention to Toby once more for an answer. After all, it was that crazed wolf that had dragged him here in the first place. "I will answer that question. And others. On one condition."

"You are not in a position to make demands."

"You and I will speak alone."

"After your threat to kill me? That hardly seems the safe thing to do."

"Then chain me in silver. I don't care. But these are matters that I cannot discuss with company." When Dumbledore opened his mouth to insist once more, he adopted his mask. That mask all Malfoys bear and whip out at any time. The one that gives nothing away. Nothing but the obvious intent of deliberate concealment. "When did he tell you?" he asked suddenly.

"Tell me what?"

Toby glanced to Dumbledore's hand. Eyes narrowed as he easily picked apart every detail. Ticking off every item one by one. He'd recently had a bit of pudding with plum sauce, evidenced by the stickiness on the index finger and thumb. He'd dropped a bite down his robes, and with the finger and thumb picked it up. The stain made his robes a slightly darker shade of purple in each place it had landed as it bounced down in escape. His nails had recently been manicured - odd given that the style was popular with the women of the period... not the men. One theory of the historical figure confirmed. Raised black veins just barely visible. A tracery of poison and decay... The second theory... Ah. There...

The root of the problem sitting upon his very finger. "When did Professor Snape tell you, headmaster? That you won't last the year."

**o0o**

Draco had insisted on remaining in the room, but had been thrown out when Dumbledore became angry. Not at Toby, as such, but the fact that he had known a secret very few in the Order were aware of. Toby flippantly had replied he didn't know, he saw, and smirked because he'd remembered his father often saying nearly the same thing over and over to astonished clients.

He'd been led out by the two guards, and had met Fred and George Weasley on the way back up to his not-a-cell room. Despite his situation, he held his head high. Despite his concussion, he maintained an air of perfect health. And though he did not toss out the occasional pureblood propaganda speech, he made sure to make a few disparaging comments of them being poor and being weasels.

But his black little Slytherin heart just wasn't in it. When he caught sight of Harry, Hermione, and Ron... There wasn't really anything to say. He decided on giving Ron his obligatory insult, but held back when it came to Hermione. He wasn't thick. He knew if he had any hope of a chance of surviving in the world he was now thrust into he would need her help. Loathe to admit it as he was, he would need her to convince the remaining two-thirds of the Golden Trio that he was not stealing information.

And that the werewolf he had been stuck with wasn't going to actually eat anyone.

Except the Headmaster.

And possibly Ron, if Draco was feeling particularly vicious that day.

He was led up the third set of stairs, and returned to his room. Food and water waited on a tray - but these he did not touch. There were still some who doubted the authenticity of his need.

Moving slowly he explored the room. It had apparently been used regularly. Judging by the way he had woken to find his canine companion, he had little doubt that this had been Professor Lupin's room.

Draco had just decided to look through the books in the meager collection on the shelves beside the bed when there came knock at his door. So soft he nearly missed it. He hummed in acknowledgement, but moments passed and the door had not unlocked and opened. "Come in," he called when it became apparent that whomever it was clearly would not do so without spoken orders.

He stared at the door from the corner of his eye as he turned through a Tibetan text on lycanthropy and what to do if you are one. He'd half expected to find Toby, or another one of those blasted auror members come to berate or drag him back downstairs.

Instead, the door opened just enough for a body to slip through before closing again. "So that's how you get around after curfew is it?" Draco drawled, tearing his gaze away when the first shock of black hair had been revealed. "Pity, I had three at the manor."

"What are you doing here Malfoy?"

"Same as you, I suspect. Running away from home. Seeking protection from those greater than yourself."

"I'm not running-"

"Obviously you are," Draco sighed boredly. He really didn't want to start a fight. He didn't have the energy to pay it the attention it properly deserved. "When have you ever finished the summer with your true relations? Honestly, Potter. I think the papers know more about what you're doing than you yourself." The words were meant to be harsh, to be cruel, but they were far less scathing than he wished them to be. "Look, if you are here to gloat over my misfortune then make an appointment with my secretary."

"He might try to chew my arm off," Harry muttered.

"Actually," came a quiet, low voice behind him. Harry turned as Draco closed the book. "I much prefer paranoid and crippled old aurors. Gryffindors tend to be a bit... stringy. Not nearly tenderized enough…"

* * *

_**IMPORTANT A/N -** _We (both the writers of this fic) have a massive family crisis going on right now that sort of evolved from another one that was ongoing. So... This may affect posting. Please do not panic if this fic has not updated after a month. Our method of writing starts with writing EVERY RUDDY CHAPTER AND SCENE BY HAND. Then it's typed, proofed, beta'd, proofed again, beta'd, then given a quick martini before posting. So please be gentle with us if a month or two from now, this is still the latest chapter. We will do our best to keep our readers posted, so for the latest news on problems or delays, check our tumblr. The link is at the top of each chapter in the notes. Thanks! ~The Writers


	6. 5 Oath

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta:** Phil the Sherlotter  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

_**SPECIAL AUTHORS' NOTE FROM THE START:**_ We apologize for the severe delay in the posting of this chapter. Long story short, we had a death in the family, one author had to move twice in 2 weeks, and internet access was spotty at best, and that was when all we had were smartphones to work with. Access is still an issue, as well as scheduling now, so please don't hold delays against us. Now read on!_**  
**_

* * *

"Tobias," Draco drawled, placing the book he had been looking through back in its place upon the shelf. "You have news?"

"Yeah. Have you eaten? Drank?"

"My appetite isn't quite-"

"Just checking. That's expected with the potions you've been given. But you do need to try and get plenty of water. The more hydrated you are, the better the blood replenisher works. The better that works, the easier it is for your body to handle the Skele-Gro."

Harry stepped out of the way as the lanky wolf crossed the room, not giving the teen a second glance after the initial acknowledgement of his presence. Soft words when he neared Draco were spoken, but he could not decipher them without the aid of Fred and George's extendable ears. It was hard for Harry to see his rival in such a drastically different light. Vulnerable. Quiet. Angry, yes, but unwilling to engage in their customary animosity.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the voice of Nymphadora Tonks outside the door.

Toby glanced towards him then, one hand resting carefully on Draco's shoulder as he guided him back to the bed. Presumably to make him comfortable and rest his damaged body. "Cloak yourself, Potter. You might as well stay to hear the fruits of my efforts."

Harry didn't move until the door opened a second time. Quickly he dropped his invisibility cloak back over himself and stepped out of the way just in time to see Tonks revealed in the doorway. She didn't look pleased, and her normally brightly colored hair was a sombre black. "Albus will see to it you have room and board until you've made your decisions. Based on what you decide, because he is still in his minority, Malfoy will either be taken into Auror custody or he will be given sanctuary by the Order."

"And what's the third option?" Toby pressed, defiance clear in his voice. "If we choose to make our own way?"

"There isn't one. You either take the oath or you don't. I don't have a clue what you told him, but clearly he thinks you both have information valuable to the cause."

"I did what I had to do for my family," Toby all but barked. "And I offered my services to repair the wards on the building, with the new owner's help of course. Black blood is needed to restore the balance of the ancestral magic. Even a disowned cousin would know that. And a familial lord is necessary to pass complete ownership to Mr. Potter. Both requirements of which the little lord and I fulfill."

"Of course."

Harry listened as they continued their exchange. Tonks relaying the conditions Professor Dumbledore had decided to impose on the werewolf and his charge. And Toby responding with venomous defiance dripping from every word of acknowledgement and rebuke.

"Now, if you would be so kind," Toby said at the end of their banter. "It is time for the little lord's next potion, and I need time to consider the kindness that has been offered." Each word, to Harry's ears, had been carefully chosen and laced with a forced politeness that held within a touch of sarcasm. The man played nice, remaining in the chair he had placed himself in during the conversation. Making no sudden movements other than the slight movement of a finger. Ever so subtle - and the door was closed in the auror's face.

Again that finger moved, the same silent and minimal effort, before he let loose a loud sigh and slumped his shoulders. "Well, that was tedious."

Harry threw off his cloak and held it tightly in his left hand, even subconsciously knowing to keep his wand arm free and ready. This move, apparently, was not lost on the wolf as he turned silver eyes back to their guest.

"Take the offer," Harry said, glancing briefly to a now sleeping Draco. "Professor Dumbledore can give you sanctuary. He can protect you both."

"What can he do for us that we cannot do for ourselves?"

"He's the only wizard Voldemort-"

Toby rolled his eyes and rose from his chair at last. Stalking towards the cabinet Professor Snape had placed Draco's potions. "Wrong."

"Wrong? It's not wrong. Voldemort knows that he's no match for Professor Dumbledore. That's why he won't attack him openly."

Toby opened the cabinet, chewing his lip a moment before repeating himself and wrapping his fingers around a bright pink vial. "Wrong."

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard alive."

He uncorked the bottle and gave it a sniff before selecting another. One Harry knew very very well. Skele-Gro. "Wrong."

When Harry opened his mouth to speak again, Toby interrupted him. "I agree that professor Dumbledore is very powerful. He did defeat Grindlewald after all. And yes, in a duel both the headmaster and the Dark Lord are equally matched. But one is not more powerful than the other. That is very clear." He selected a third bottle, a dark red one, before taking the items over to a table and uncorking the other two. Harry followed, but kept his distance from the table. Watching as the man carefully measured out the contents of the bottles and, surprisingly, mixed them together in a glass of water.

"What-"

"The water thins it out and makes it easier to consume without losing the healing effects. The pink bottle is simply flavor. A sort of mixed berry. He won't drink it down otherwise. Can't stand the taste."

"I didn't know you could add-"

"You can, if you're careful," Toby replied, but would not let Harry change the subject so easily. "The Dark Lord does not fear the headmaster, Harry. He knows that he is a formidable opponent. Knows that as he has grown older, he has become a master strategist. Closer to a general than a simple school master. Hogwarts is not openly attacked because the Dark Lord knows that it is the headmaster's fortress. And that fortress is, as he has seen time and time again, well protected in many ways. Difficult to infiltrate, and even more difficult to escape alive." He re-corked the potions, and then stirred the concoction in the glass of water. It took on a muddy color, but there had in fact been a subtle scent of berries in the air. "The same applies to Malfoy Manor. It had taken me six moons of work to get close enough to the Malfoys to facilitate Draco's escape. An escape that nearly killed us both. We could never have gotten away had his mother not sacrificed herself to stall the hounds and the Dark Lord's followers."

Harry took this in silently, his green gaze wandering to Draco on the bed. Pale, sickly, and even in sleep his pain was obvious.

"It will take time to bring him back to his former strength. Now do you see the weight my decision carries? If the situation were reversed, and you were offered the choice between imprisonment and servitude, which would you choose Potter?"

"Joining the Order isn't servitude. It's the opportunity to save lives. To stop Voldemort and others like him from taking over the world." Anger rose in Harry's chest. Anger that the values and reasons for which he and his companions fought for meant so little to this stranger. Meant nothing more than... than...

"When you look at me," Toby said, interrupting his thoughts, "What do you see? Do you see a man? Do you see a bloodthirsty creature of darkness? Let me simplify it for you. When you look at Remus Lupin, is he a man or is he a beast?"

"He's my friend. The only one left who I can-"

"Can what?"

He clenched his fists and turned away, starting for the door. When he reached for the knob, he was stopped by Toby's words. "We are weapons, Harry. Some dull; some sharp. Some waiting to be pulled from the forge and molded. Single and double edged. Tools waiting to be used and explosions waiting to happen. Some weapons are more valuable than the rest while others are more effective. The Dark Lord does not fear Albus Dumbledore. He fears the most powerful weapon in the headmaster's fortress. Tell me, Harry Potter, with your blood running through the Dark Lord's veins, what is to stop him from breaching the blood wards on Privet Drive?"

Harry looked over his shoulder once to see Toby with his back to him, seated on the side of the bed with the glass in hand. Quietly and carefully urging Draco to drink from it.

He turned back to the door, unlocked it, and slipped from the room. The stranger's words stuck on repeat in his thoughts...

The only people to whom he had told the full events of the night Cedric Diggory had been killed were small in number. Three, if he were honest...

**o0o**

It had been a few days after he had snuck into their guests' room when Harry was instructed to help in the final reconstruction of the wards before he and the others would be heading back to Hogwarts for the term.

It was Tonks who had led them down into the hidden basement. An area of which only those who carried the blood of the Black family could pass. Though Harry, as the head of the family in name, was able to enter as the ancestral magic recognized the purpose for which he had been brought.

"Alright," Tonks said when the four of them reached the old stone door. "This is where I leave you."

"What? Aren't you coming in? You're a Black, too," Harry said.

She shook her head. But it was Draco who spoke. "Her mother was disowned and disinherited. If she walks through that door, the protective magic of the house will kill her. Very painfully."

"Did you have to add that last part?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Look Potter, let's just get through the door and get this over with alright. The less time I spend with you, the better."

Toby sighed. "And here I thought we were making progress..." he muttered. "Thank you, Miss Tonks. You know where to wait. This could take hours, it could take minutes. It depends on the damage we did coming in. So..."

"I know. I'll be well out of the way when you start," she said coldly back.

After tapping his wand to the door, muttering a few incantations, and giving it a bit of a push, Toby and the two teens stepped into the darkness beyond. The moment the door was pushed back into place, torches burst to life along the walls, meeting in the center of the opposite wall.

Harry looked around in wonder and apprehension. The walls were carved with runes, he was sure. But other symbols as well. Symbols he'd only ever seen briefly in the dark magic texts of the restricted section.

"Blood sigils," Toby explained, pulling a satchel from his pocket and enlarging it. Draco was unimpressed by the vault, for that is exactly what the room was. He'd been inside the ward rooms of Malfoy Manor and his family's other properties. But he had never needed to take part in the ritual to establish the wards before.

Quietly, he looked on as Toby removed item after item from the satchel. Laying them carefully on the wardstone altar. "Potter, come here a moment," Toby said.

Harry turned his attention to the werewolf, not wanting to stop his examination of the walls. "So... How do we do this?"

"Draco and I will repair the lines. You keep your hand on this altar. Whatever happens, do not interfere. Do not touch your wand. Do not move. And keep quiet until I tell you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied with a nod.

"Good. Draco it's time. A small one will do. If you start to feel weak, stop and I will do the rest."

"I don't need you to remind me," he muttered under his breath, taking out his wand at the same moment Toby did. He touched it to the palm of his hand and uttered a mild cutting curse. Hissing as the skin sliced open. Then his wand was placed back into his sleeve.

Harry's eyes went wide as he watched Draco, then Toby cut himself. The pair went to opposite sides of the room, using their newly injured hands to trace what the man had called blood sigils with their own blood. When the fresh scarlet touched the stone walls, the light of the torches died down to a dim smolder, orange-red dots glowing on the tops of the sconces as the walls lit up in shades of pink, red, and rust.

"Well, it could be worse," Toby said in amusement. "Shattered indeed. This won't take long. Draco, we'll go counterclockwise. Should have this done in no time at all."

As Harry watched them, they traced symbol after symbol. Each completed pair causing a string of light to cross the room to connect them. Each completed symbol turning a bright and brilliant red. The only sound in the room the echoes of the other teen and his companion chanting.

Toby finished first, stopping where Draco had started. Waiting for the teen to catch up. Once Draco had reached the end, he moved to the altar, placing his bloody hand upon it. Toby joined them, looking to Harry.

"Now comes your part to play in all of this," he said. "Give me your hand."

"What... What are you going to do?"

"Ancient magic, ancient method. In order for the House of Black to fully recognize you, you must mingle your magic with it. To do that, in this place..."

"Blood," Draco said. "You have to use your blood."

"But-"

Without warning, Toby's clean hand went for his wand. In seconds, Harry hissed and held the wrist of his wand arm angrily, glaring at the fresh line cut across his palm.

Toby and Draco put their bloody hands on the altar, both staring at Harry and waiting. Waiting for him to do the same. "Potter," Draco said when it became obvious Harry had no clue what was expected, nor did he want any part in it. "Touch the stone, and we can get out of here."

Harry looked from one to the other. Both of them staring back at him in expectation. "Harry," Toby said after a moment, lacking the sarcasm and wit he had taken to proudly displaying. It was replaced with a seriousness... and concern. "We cannot seal the wards in place until the new owner accepts what is offered."

"And what's that? The house? I don't even want it."

"Not just the house."

"Then what?"

"Power, Potter," Draco snapped. "The power of the Ancient and Most Noble house of Black. Everything that should have-"

"Not the time, little lord," Toby snapped, then turned his attention back to Harry. "But he's right. The magical power of our family will become yours. Everything that was in the name of Sirius Black, and indeed the entire family, will belong to you and you alone. Our allies will become yours. Our enemies will become yours. The titles, the wealth, everything. If only you would accept the terms."

"Terms... What terms? You never said anything about terms."

"I cannot speak them until you put your damn hand on the ruddy wardstone!" Toby snapped, a growl to his voice. Clearly frustrated. "And you have to do it willingly, or it won't take! Now put your damn hand on the stone!"

"No!"

"I would Imperius you... but unfortunately you're immune. The door won't open again until something is done. So, we can either stay in here and starve to death or we can get this over with."

They remained like this for quite a while as Harry continued to refuse, and Toby continued to shout at him to stop refusing so they could get this over with.

Finally, it was Draco that broke the stalemate, recognizing this opportunity for what it was. To avoid a forced oath to Albus Dumbledore and the Order. To avoid being used as a weapon against the Dark Lord in the headmaster's chess game.

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereditary lord of the House of Black and heir of the House of Malfoy, bind my magic and all that I have by the ancient rites of the sacred blood oath to Harry James Potter, scion of the House of Potter. I will not seek to harm him, nor will I influence others to do so. My life is his to take or keep as he sees fit, until the time he release me of this oath or death take me. Does the Lord Potter accept?"

Toby glanced at Harry, who stared at Draco with jaw slack and mouth hanging open in disbelief. He took advantage of the moment, and quickly followed Draco's example.

"I, Tobias Black, lesser lord of the House of Black and appointed guardian of Draco Malfoy, to whom my magic and all that I have is already bound, vow by the ancient rites of the sacred blood oath to protect, advise, and aid Lord Harry James Potter in any way I am able without breaking that oath which binds me to the Malfoy Heir. Putting the needs of both my master and my charge before all others, including my own. Does the Lord Potter accept?"

**o0o**

Tonks was startled into bright white hair when the trio appeared at the top of the stairs behind her. When she saw that all three looking pale and exhausted, it shifted to a soft mousy brown. She hadn't expected them to take as long as they had, but then again she'd been told the damage their guests had done was quite severe.

"It's done," Harry said, rubbing at the place across his palm where moments before they had been a deep red gash. Now, not even a blemish. But the feeling of the wound lingered still. Draco kept his eyes straight ahead. Toby kept an arm around his shoulders to keep the boy steady.

"Good. Everyone's been waiting for you guys to come back up. Tell them how it went and all."

She escorted the trio out of the basement and back into the kitchen where expectant faces all turned toward them. The moment Harry had entered the room, Ginny had rushed to him, throwing her arms around him tightly.

"Oh Harry! We were so worried! When Professor Dumbledore explained what was going on after the house shook-"

"The house shook?!" Harry exclaimed, pulling Ginny off him and looking to Hermione and Ron for confirmation. The pair of them nodded.

Mrs. Weasley gave a huff. "What you did was very dangerous young man. Having a child do such... such... vile magic. It's-"

"It was necessary," Snape said from the far end of the table. "True ownership of a bloodline so old and powerful requires equally old and powerful magic. Draco?"

"I'm fine," Draco said as he pulled away from Toby's supportive arm. He stood steady by sheer force of will and effort, fueled by the desire to appear strong and steady rather than the magical weakness he truly felt. "Just a little dizzy. Tobias administered the potions you prescribed after the ritual was completed."

When the cold potions master cut his eyes to Toby, the werewolf was surprised to see a flicker of warmth in the calculating stare before he gave a silent nod, which the potions master returned in approval.

Toby, slightly shaken by the brief show of emotion, brought his arms up and folded his hands behind his head with a big grin. "Well, all that's left is to give old beard face the latest feeds." Ears twitched as he heard Ron and Hermione whispering to one another, which only made his grin even wider. "Have you love birds got something to share with the class or do I need to embarrass you both by reading the texts out loud?"

Draco elbowed him, then sighed and shook his head as Toby didn't even flinch. "What?" the wolf replied. "Whispering behind people is rude, especially when you're whispering about someone that can actually hear it. I mean, Weasley I'd understand. Manners from a barn, that one. But Miss Granger should know better. Muggles are big on the whole manners thing. Especially the uptight sort like her folks."

"I beg your pardon!" Hermione exclaimed at the same time as Ron's "I'm not the one with no manners!"

Toby was just about to open his mouth again when the door to the kitchen opened on Remus and a face Toby didn't recognize from the family records. "Sorry to interrupt," the elder werewolf said, locking eyes with a silver gaze before pulling his attention back again. "Harry, the headmaster needs to see you in the parlour a few moments."

"Er... Yeah. Of course. What about-"

"We'll be along in a few ticks yeah. I'm sure old beard face can't wait to hear that the ferret and I are more than happy to chain ourselves to his old boat." Toby made a mock salute even as Draco elbowed him sharply again, causing the odd man to become more serious. "Run along Potter. We'll be along shortly."


	7. 6 Quiet

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta: **Mel the Malady  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

_**SPECIAL AUTHORS' NOTE FROM THE START:**_ This one might feel a bit choppy - the writing was done in sections between 2 weddings, a major move, and around a work schedule. Sorry. Please let us know of any typos and such that our back-up beta didn't catch. Thanks! - _The Writers_

* * *

Tobias and Draco kept to themselves after the room's elder occupants filed out of the kitchen. Severus Snape made a point of ignoring the apprehensive and questioning stares of the Weasleys as he passed them. Watching the ever sour Snape go, his robes billowing behind him and giving him the bat-like appearance his grandparents had often laughed at with a distant and fond look in their eye, he couldn't help but think of his father. Couldn't help but take notice of the similarity in the demeanor. In the seeming chill his presence gave a room, and the slight disdain with which the man looked upon those around him, Toby saw then what would be in two years' time the shadow that would lend name to a similarly severe child.

"Too bad he didn't keep the name," Toby said, not realizing he'd spoken aloud. "Fit the old bloke well, too."

Draco cast an inquisitive eye towards him, brow raised but mouth closed. Quickly, he turned his attention to the room's remaining occupants as Toby continued to speak nonsensically to himself under his breath.

Granger busied herself with ignoring him while the Weasel kept shooting warning glares across the room at him. The Weaslet was busy trying to converse with Granger while trying to wrangle the malcontent orange mass wriggling in her arms.

"Crookshanks," Toby said, following Draco's line of sight. "Doesn't want to be near me. It's a cat versus dog thing. Though, admittedly, she quite likes the vicious bastards. Pretty fond of Padfoot I heard. And Moony as well." He shrugged. "I must've tried to take a swipe or two at her already."

"Recently I've found myself questioning your sanity," Draco said quietly. "As well as your competency as my representative."

"Guardian," Toby corrected. "I'm your official and legal guardian, protector, body guard, and all around attack dog. So long as Po-"

He was cut short by the kitchen door opening once more, the craggy half-face of Mad-Eye Moody followed. His gruff voice barking an order Draco barely deciphered, but Toby clearly understood. It was their turn. As they crossed the kitchen together, keeping their heads high and their backs straight, the wolf's ears pricked up as he heard the furtive whispers of the Weasley children and Granger. Already agreeing that the pair of them could not be trusted. That they were up to something. Pittance vows of best friends to protect poor Harry from the slimy trickster Slytherin scum.

Toby didn't feel the need to explain that he himself had been Hufflepuff. That dear old Mad-Eye himself had been a crafty snake and not a proud, puffed up Gryffindor.

They didn't get that privilege. Not just yet.

Draco tensed beside him as Ron's mouth opened to unleash an insult Toby did not understand. The blonde clenched his teeth, found it possible to straighten his posture even more, and refused to look elsewhere. "I will speak on our behalf," he said, uncaring that Moody was listening in. His false eye trained on the two men walking ahead of him down the narrow corridor. "You will speak when spoken to. I will not allow a show of weakness in front of these ignorant buffoons. And your mode of speech is quite difficult to follow. You speak nonsense and strange, foreign words. These would be used against us. Against me."

"Your wish is my command, little lord."

"And you will address me in the proper manner while in the unfortunate company of others."

Toby rolled his eyes. "No."

"You will."

"I won't. I only listen to you as a courtesy. It's your mum I've really got to obey."

Draco's expression did not change. Yet his tone took on a soft sense of sinister threat. "My mother would not place me into the care of a wild beast I would not be able to control. She will have chosen her wording very carefully, to not only bind you to herself and your vow, but to myself as well. I wonder what may happen should I give you a direct order and you refuse to comply."

"Not much. I'll get a bit itchy. Might think I've got fleas. A headache at best. I can write it all out for you later if you like, but you won't be finding no loopholes." Their banter ended as they were shown into the parlour where Dumbledore, Toby realized, had decided to make regular use of as a war room.

He reached out to gently squeeze Draco's shoulder before falling back, giving the impression that the younger wizard was in charge of him. It was all part of the charade. The boy wanted to play leader... Well now was his chance. As Dumbledore began his customary grandfatherly act for the benefit of both teens in the room, Toby took the opportunity to take in the faces of those around them. Eyes carefully observing the mannerisms and quirks. Mind deducing their personalities, strengths, and most of all their weaknesses.

So many were still so young. So many already maimed and scarred by battles they should never have been forced to fight. He turned his attention back to the headmaster and the conversation taking place before him when he felt he'd appeared distracted long enough.

"Mr. Malfoy... Draco," Dumbledore said. "Within these walls, and the halls of Hogwarts, you are safe. However, we cannot guarantee your safety outside these places. You have witnessed first hand the power Voldemort," and at the name of the Dark Lord, Toby noticed, many flinched. Including Draco. "holds over our world. Now that you have fled his grasp, he has used his influence to attack Azkaban and free your father and other loyal followers of his cause."

"And my mother?" Draco asked, fighting to keep the emotions from his voice. Fighting to remain strong despite the great loss he felt at having to leave his mother behind in the cruel hands of the Dark Lord. "What have your spies told you of her?" Grey eyes looked around, but would not turn to Toby. The boy noticed a few brief sympathetic looks, but little else was given away. "Is she alive?"

"She lives," Snape said calmly. "But daily she is placed under the _Cruciatis_."

Draco's jaw clenched. His shoulders tensed as he clenched his fists at his sides. He opened his mouth, but Toby spoke out of turn. "Has she broken?"

"No. Lady Malfoy has weakened, but she remains silent on her affairs. I have done all that I am able under the Dark Lord's watchful eye to ease her suffering. She will not speak, but I fear that death may help her to keep her silence."

Toby placed his hand back on Draco's shoulder; an attempt to soothe and comfort him. To the others, his face was cold. An unreadable and unbreakable mask of indifference. But Toby knew better. He knew how to decipher the silent language of his family...

And apparently so, too, did the owner of a set of emerald eyes dimmed only by rounded spectacles.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, his voice hard despite the devastation he felt inside. "Tobias," he said, moving smoothly to the next matter before the headmaster could take control of the conversations again. "Has informed me of your discussion. You have asked what we are unable to give. We cannot swear our allegiance and loyalty to your Order, nor can we swear it to you."

At this, voices raised in a cacophony of confusion and protest. Shouts of dishonesty and deception surrounded the two who had broken into their headquarters. Who had destroyed their wards of safety. Gone was the reminder that they had dutifully repaired them. That they had forsaken their claims of the fortunes of Sirius and the House of Black.

Now they were Death Eater spies. Caught and ready for execution.

However the chorus of fear and hate died down when Dumbledore raised his hands to quell the angry mob around them. Draco's eyes shut tightly, his head shaking as he ground his teeth a moment. At the same time, Dumbledore's expression darkened not with the finding of knowledge but in concentration and determination.

Toby growled, stepping forward and placing himself between the headmaster and his charge. A shock was needed. A powerful distraction to break the headmaster's concentration on Draco. To pull him back and release the boy's mind from his sight lest he see too much. And Toby knew exactly what it would take.

Growling, he turned his eyes to Snape, then to Harry. "Master, stop this! Can't you see it's hurting him?! His defenses are still weakened. He cannot prevent the ravaging of his own mind!" Voices raised around them again, this time in question and confusion as eyes turned from the pleading werewolf to Harry for answers.

"You KNOW how much it hurts! How much it hurt every time Severus used it on you!" Inwardly he was grinning. Outwardly, he played the part of the distressed pet. The worried companion. And now it was time for the finish. With watering silver eyes, ready to let tears flow, he let his voice carry nice and loudly. Once more proclaiming his new connection with the teen. "Please, Master, be merciful!"

At this, he heard a sigh of great relief coupled with a groan of exhaustion. Quickly he turned to face Draco, wrapping the boy protectively in his arms whether he liked it or not. Quiet murmurs of question fell from his lips. Asking what the headmaster had seen. Asking if he were alright. Asking if he needed to sit down. Needed to rest again. Needed a potion. Water. Anything and everything.

"What have you done?" the headmaster demanded not of them, but of Harry.

"I- I didn't do anything!"

"In the ward room, what was done?"

"I told you," Harry replied defensively. "They did the ritual just as professor Snape and yourself said it had to be done."

"What was said?"

At this, Harry had no answer. He hadn't told the headmaster because he didn't think it had to be said. He thought that if they made an oath to him, it was enough. It was like they had sworn to join the order.

"We made vows," Draco said as he pulled himself out of Toby's grasp. "I did not escape one power mad wizard to fall into the slavery of another."

Before anyone could protest Draco's declaration, Toby broke in. "And we are not foolish enough to believe we would be released without first taking precautions against us. To prevent us from damaging your great weapon against Voldemort."

"Our magic is bound to Potter. And there is nothing you can say or do to break this bond. Only he has the power to release our vows. But before you pressure your golden boy into doing something drastic, remember who and what he now has under his influence."

Murmurs. Toby looked around, then back at Dumbledore. His face may have been composed, and his body language now nonthreatening. But there was no trace of a twinkle in his blue eyes. Only a cold calculation. The bare skeleton of a strategy. Toby smirked.

Draco continued. "A son whom he can hold for ransom. A source of valuable information regarding the organization of the Dark Lord's followers and an insight into his methods. Two living, breathing tomes of information containing encyclopedic knowledge of the dark arts. Both Tobias and I have sworn, with our very blood, never to raise our wands to harm Potter. And to be subject to his will and whim alone."

"You see," Toby followed. "We cannot give to you what we have already given to Lord Potter. Not without sacrificing our lives to do so." The expression on his face was smug, but only one person was looking at him now. All other eyes were on Harry Potter. Toby's lips were slightly parted to show his tongue sliding over the slightly pronounced canine teeth in his mouth. A challenge given.

And with the start of a twinkle in ancient blue eyes, a challenge accepted.

**o0o**

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to accept it."

"You should make him carry your books."

"Ronald-"

"What? He has to do whatever Harry says, right? So... Wait! We can finally make him eat slugs!"

Harry sat staring out the window of the compartment. The only other occupant who kept quiet had been Luna. Ginny and Ron were already plotting how best to demean Draco using his blood vow to Harry to do it. Hermione was attempting to quell their gleeful revenge fantasies as Neville occasionally tossed in his ideas from time to time.

"You're awfully quiet Harry," Luna said dreamily as she took Ron's place beside him after the boy had gotten up to excitedly act out what horrible thing he wanted Malfoy to do at Harry's command.

"Don't really like the conversation," Harry said with a shrug.

She hummed softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Luna."

She gave a gentle smile. "I thought you would be brooding over something else. You know..."

And he did know. Everyone had been so careful when mentioning his godfather. When talking about the Department of Mysteries. And yet their sympathies and platitudes did nothing to ease his nightmares and quell his racing doubts. His grief had transformed from the piercing heartbreak of losing the life he now knew he would never be allowed to have into a dull, numb ache of subdued despair. Into a consuming hatred for she who had taken his only glimmer of hope. A deep rooted resentment for those who drove him on in a war he never wanted. And yet... confusion had snuck into his silent rages.

The seeds of doubt both Sirius and Remus had started to sow had now found a new light towards which to grow. This... this was what confused him, and tempered his anger so that he has been able to continue on. Wear the mask of The Boy Who Lived, and disguise his anger and sorrow as mere nonchalance. As simple grief from which he could easily be led through.

"It still hurts," Harry said simply, giving a slight shrug. "I mean, I knew him for such a short time. We only had the brief visits."

"Not enough time to learn about him. Not enough time to let him get to know you."

"He knew me, well enough."

Luna shook her head, then brushed back the platinum hair that fell into her eyes. "No one really does, Harry. No one really does," she said quietly so that only Harry would hear her. Then, she held up her old issue of the Quibbler and returned to her reading.

Harry stared at the upside down newspaper before blinking curiously. For once, Luna had been very straightforward and clear.

He stood, causing his friends to all turn to him, breaking the excitement and enthusiasm with which Ron and Ginny plotted and Hermione and Neville tried to protest. Well, protest a little. "Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm just going to get a little air."

"Harry," Hermione started, but he did not let her finish. He knew what she was going to say before he'd crossed the small compartment.

What he really needed was to be left alone. Alone he didn't have to think. He didn't have to pretend for his friends. He could, for once, just be Harry.

**o0o**

Draco was fidgeting. For the first time since his escape, he had been left alone. Not really alone... he knew there were wards in place to keep an eye on him. But Toby had been made to leave Number 12 before him. To assume his cover that Dumbledore had prepared for him at Hogwarts.

He had started the train ride in the same manner in which he always had. Sitting in the accustomed Slytherin car. Having schooled his features and emotions to give nothing away. Had chosen his words carefully when speaking with his close friends... some of whom he knew to be children of the Inner Circle.

Draco had been grateful when his Prefect duties had called him away from the car. It had given him the perfect excuse to hide himself away in a compartment to take his potions.

Finally, as the pain from the Skele-gro had subsided, he had gotten a little peace. Only to have it stolen when the door had opened and startled him.

"Sorry," said the emotionless voice from the empty face looking back at him. "I thought this one was vacant."

"Clearly Potter it isn't," Draco snapped, the old bite to his voice when he had always addressed the other boy.

Harry stepped back to close the door, when Draco sighed. "Fine... But stay quiet. And the first red haired Weasel I see..." He let the warning hang in the air as Harry nodded his understanding. After checking to ensure the corridor was empty, Harry stepped in and closed the door. Drawing the blind down so that none could look in to see the two enemies sitting together.

They passed the remainder of the train ride in a mutual silence. Harry thankful that Malfoy did not try to speak with him. And Draco thankful that Potter demanded no answers.

**o0o**

Toby picked at the hems of his robe sleeves. He hadn't worn one of these silly things in years. Even then, they had been much more stylish. Much more modern. Much more... breathable.

"Stop your fidgeting boy," said an elderly portrait to the side of the table. "It is most unbecoming of an apprentice."

"I'm no apprentice mate. I'm a fully qualified potions master, investigative journalist, and world renown historian and don't you forget it you wrinkled old windbag! And I bloody hate these stuffy old curtains!" He flapped his arms to show off the robes of which he spoke.

"And you will address me in the proper manner young man. I am a lady."

"You're a painting on the ruddy wall is what you are. I'll call you whatever I bloody well feel like."

"Language. This is an institution for children."

"I'll put you in an institution..." Toby grumbled under his breath as he let his arms drop to his sides. It was kind of Professor McGonogall to pay for his teaching robes, as well as his day to day wear and personal necessities. But he resented the fact he had not been consulted on what his tastes and preferences were.

Glancing to the wall where his transfigured clock had been hung, he heaved a great sigh, allowed his face to smooth out into the patented Malfoy Mask he had perfected at age three, and left his suite.

The portrait swung closed behind him, her radiant black and gold dress fading into the stonework as the painting disappeared. No doubt she had moved to another location in the castle, causing him the need to hunt her down in order to simply retire for the night.

No matter.

Straightening his collar, he put one foot before the other and started the long walk down towards the great hall. There was a feast to be held and students to be sorted.

Toby had always wondered what it would be like to watch the song and dance from the head table.

**o0o**

"I don't see Snape," Ginny whispered. "Where is he?"

"Maybe he finally got sacked," Ron answered hopefully.

"He couldn't have been let go," Hermione said. "He is a member of the Order, and Professor Dumbledore would want to keep him close."

"I still don't trust him," Ron said. "And I really hope that werewolf isn't going to be teaching anything. He scares the willies out of me."

Harry looked up at the mention of the werewolf. Green eyes scanned the professors' table for the man. Sure enough there he was, sitting beside Professor Slughorn.

"Do you think he's the new DADA professor? He has never denied that he is a dark wizard, and Harry said he can't harm him, so maybe-"

"Not unless Malfoy says he can," Ginny interrupted.

"No, because Malfoy can't harm him either. Mum said he has to obey Malfoy, and Malfoy has to obey everything Harry says."

Hermione sighed. "Ron, it's not like that. Remember that oath your brothers had to take? Vows to the Order? That's what Malfoy and that man did. Only they made their oaths to Harry instead."

"Why do that? I mean, it's totally mental!"

Harry cast his gaze over the table again, yet still there was no sign of Snape as yet. Only a vacant chair. He glanced over to the Slytherin table and spotted Draco quickly with the ease of one who has done such every day for years. Watching. Waiting for any sign of-

What?

Now the most they could do was argue. Shout and scrap and nothing more. Not since Draco had chained his werewolf and bound his magic to, of all people, the Gryffindor golden boy.

He averted his eyes when he realized Draco was staring back at him. Just in time to see Professor McGonogall place the Sorting Hat out on the stool.

The great hall fell to an excited hum as students sat in anticipation of what song the hat would devise this year. What riddle would it impart to them of the coming terms.

But this year... This year there was no song. For when the sorting hat opened the seam of its mouth, it hummed in foreboding concentration. Then it gave a rather odd, rather disconcerting and almost lyrical warning.

_ "Friend or foe you'll know for naught  
__until creatures found are proper taught.  
__Time for fear and sadness passed.  
__The enemy has an army massed.  
__Shadows long and moons rise high;  
__Strength alone cannot get by.  
__A promise shared will show the way;  
__And secrets kept will light the day._

_ "Beware ye children of fire's light,  
__For you must remember the exile's flight.  
__From Gryffindor comes your strength of arms;  
__And by Slytherin gain the cunning mind;  
__Yet within Ravenclaw all answers reside.  
__Ah but careful now such a triad be  
__For all they do Badger sees."_


	8. 7 Fatal

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
S**eries:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta: **Mel the Malady  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

"That doesn't even make sense!" shouted a Ravenclaw boy while the girl beside him gave a knowing smile amidst the chaos. It seemed she alone understood the message.

Then again, she did have radish earrings on, so it could very well have just been that she was in her own world and hadn't a clue what was actually going on.

The great hall was silenced only when the deputy headmistress raised her arms and called for such, announcing that the sorting was to begin.

Tobias watched first the student body's reaction. Seeking out certain faces in the chaos before the silence fell for sorting. Troubled expressions on the faces of Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Two obviously trying to figure out the riddle while the third watching another across the hall. His gaze turned then to Draco. Forced composure. His posture far too severe to be comfortable. He was trying his best to hold it together. From this distance, it was obvious the dragon did not trust the snakes around him.

So engrossed in watching Draco, then the students in general, Toby had not noticed when the sorting had ended and the headmaster had risen to give his customary speech. So intent on his observations was he that when Professor Slughorn's name was announced for the new Potions Master post, he'd nearly missed his own announcement of Apprentice.

He'd risen quickly beside Slughorn, and after a brief second of uncertainty decided to play his role in earnest. Appearing anxious and nervous and as if he wanted to throw up. Just as quickly, he seated himself with silent chastisement of having not paid enough attention. Once he was settled again, he stole a glance towards what he had expected to be an empty chair just as Professor Snape glowered down from the table at the student body.

He had finally been given his coveted position. It was with a heavy heart Toby gave the man a small nod as he sat down. For he knew this moment in time sealed his fate and marked his doom.

None who took the cursed position lasted beyond a year.

**o0o**

"Okay. Potions apprentice, I didn't expect. He's a dark wizard, it would make sense if he was-"

"Just give it a rest 'Mione. Look, we only have to deal with Snape one more year, then he's out! THAT'S what we should be talking about!" Ron exclaimed as he threw himself into his favorite armchair by the common room's fireplace. "This is the greatest news I've ever heard!"

"Okay, I can see your point. But think about this from the academic point of view. How qualified is this Tobias Black to be helping teach something as complex as potions? Does he have any real training? And as a dark wizard, is it wise to allow him to take an active part in our education? Or to let him near volatile ingredients that can be put to nefarious ends?"

"Just give it a rest already!" Ron protested, not wanting to think beyond the moment he realized Severus Snape was doomed to disappear after this year. One way or another. "Can't we just, for once, sit here and not analyze anything. Not talk about who is trying to kill us, poison us, or do some other horrible and terrible deed to us? Just tonight, please?"

Harry listened to this exchange, but offered little in support for either side. They would, he knew, need to figure out for themselves how to negotiate one another. Even he could see that much of their bickering, as pointless as it usually was, masked the fact that his best friends were both attempting to withhold their feelings. And Harry himself was, admittedly, dense when it came to such matters as relationships beyond the platonic.

Case in point, the fifth year who had decided that her place was beside him on the two seater between the chairs situated before the fireplace. A girl he saw only as a sister, a friend. And yet she sat there, tossing in her opinions on her brother's matters while holding Harry's hand in her own.

His palm itched from the sweat. And when he glanced down at them, their hands entwined on the cushion between their bodies, he felt... nothing. Rather, he did not feel what he knew he was expected to feel. That sense of comfort and love that young couples get from such a simple touch. No; instead his hand was sweaty, his palm itched, and her fingers were just a little too tightly wrapped around his own. It felt... awkward. Uncomfortable.

The fact that he realized he felt anything at all was surprisingly pleasant. He had feared that, in his grief, he had completely shut himself off from such things. So, as his friends carried on, now once again trying to decipher what the sorting hat must have meant, Harry started to examine his hand in Ginny's. And he started listing, silently in his thoughts, why her hand should most certainly not be there.

**o0o**

"I don't like it. I don't like it one bit."

"Too bad. It's the way it has to be," Toby said, hours after the feast. Hours after Draco had snuck back out of the Slytherin dungeon. "It's not my call, mate."

"You are supposed to be here to protect me! How can you do that if I'm in the dungeon and you're on the top floor of the castle?!"

"Well," Toby said, rubbing the back of his neck. "See, that's not my fault either. One, I'm an apprentice, not a student, so I can't stay in the dorms. Two, I'm a werewolf with needs. Meaning I have need of a secure place to transform so that no one comes to harm. Third, I have no bloody idea where this room really is. It just sort of pops up. Why, right now we might be in the kitchens. Or Dumbledore's private bath. Or even on the wall behind your own bed."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Look kid, I don't know how or why it works. I just know that it does. So... If you need to, and you can find my room, hide out in here if you like. Just... uh... Don't tell anyone. The last thing I need is people I don't know bursting in a bit closer to the full moon, got it?"

**o0o**

The first week of classes went by with little incident. Draco often made late night visits to Toby's rooms, the pair of them discussing how exactly Draco could locate the portrait door of Toby's rooms with little effort, yet still have it be concealed to all others.

It was not until the first month had passed that Toby discovered Draco had been keeping information from him. Had kept secret the true state of affairs for him in the Slytherin dormitory.

Tobias had been sent on a fool's errand in the forbidden forest, gathering plants for Slughorn, when news came to him of Draco's plight...

A sharp, searing pain in his side had been the only indication he'd received of Draco's distress. Forgetting his task, consumed by his sense of duty and spurred on by his Vow to the Lady Malfoy, Tobias ran full pelt back to the castle, having to hold his side the entire time.

By the time he had reached the hallway on which the infirmary was housed, he could hardly breathe. His vision had blurred and he could not close the distance as his heart beat wildly. Vainly attempting to keep the blood pumping in a body that was struggling to shut down. Every breath became painful. Every step heavier and heavier until finally he could no longer go on. A mere 20 feet away from the infirmary, Draco's scent becoming stronger with every inch closer he managed to push along the floor before finally he collapsed. The world growing dark as his mind began to drift into the senseless nothingness.

**o0o**

The world around him was loud. The smells were so strong he could not discern one from another. Just a mass of exotic scents his mind could not place. And a hum. A low, persistent hum he could not place nor recognize.

_"Draco!"_

He turned around, realizing that he was standing. His head was pounding. His vision blurry.

_"Draco! Follow my voice!"_

"Who-"

_**"FOLLOW MY VOICE!" **_was the repeated booming answer.

Quickly Draco moved, stumbling across this foreign world that blurred at the edges. There, a door. A door was standing open, with blissful darkness behind it. He moved toward it, jumping at the sound of voices shouting behind him. Beside him. All around him. Angry, excited, joyful, despairing.

_"Come, hurry!"_ that voice beckoned him again, drawing his attention away from the over-stimulation. There, a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

He broke into a run, tripping but not completely falling. He looked over his shoulder to see a body sprawled across the ground. Clad in auror robes and blood... so much blood... Three figures kneeling over it. All three heads covered in dirty blond. Two sets of orange auror robes, and another clad in such strange clothes. Like he had seen on Tobias during their escape from the Manor...

A hand grabbed him, jerking him backwards. He crashed into a wall, cold and hard as stone, as the door was slammed shut. A breathless Tobias stood, hand resting on the plain white door. "Thank heavens I found you..."

"What- who- where-"

"Long story, no time. You have to wake up."

"I don't understand. What WAS that? Who were those people?!"

"Draco there isn't time."

"Answer me!"

"I will. I promise, I'll tell you anything you wish to know. But right now, you have to wake up. If you don't wake up, you'll die. You'll die, and so will I." As he spoke frantically, he crossed the corridor to stand over Draco, the man's tall form looming over him in a panic. "Draco, you've been injured. I can't help you unless you wake the frak up!" His hand rose and came down, slapping Draco sharply across the face. Then again.

And the world went white.

**o0o**

"He's waking up! Fetch Madame Pomfrey!"

Draco groaned groggily and tried to sit up, only to have a hand hold him firmly in place.

"Lie still, Draco."

It was only then Draco realized who it was standing over him. It was not Tobias as he had initially thought. It was his godfather... "Where's-"

"Nearby. Useless dog. Could not even properly protect-"

"What happened, professor?" Draco asked, cutting him off before he could continue on a tirade. "Why am I in the infirmary?"

"You were stabbed, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked down the bed to see Professor Dumbledore standing at the end. His blue eyes were not twinkling. The boy was glad for it. Only true concern showed in the old man's face - and yet Draco could not trust even that about the man.

"It seems that word has circulated among your housemates that you have left Lord Voldemort's service."

"You say that so lightly!" Snape hissed angrily. "One of my students has been grievously injured and you're concerned with idle gossip! Are you mad as well as old?"

"Not so loud," groaned a voice nearby. "My poor head can't take it."

Snape whirled around to glare at Tobias in the next bed. "And where were you, Mr. Black? You are meant to be protecting Draco Malfoy are you not? So how, pray tell, did this escape your notice?!"

Toby winced as Snape raised his voice in frustration. But he knew Snape's tone and reactions were rooted in deep concern for his godson. "Out in the forest getting Sluggy's damned plants. I came as soon as I knew he's been-"

"And how did you discover this?!"

"Like I said to Dumbles, my wards and my Vow alerted me to the danger. I could not reach him quick enough to intervene, as I was too fraking far away in the fraking forest!" He winced again at the volume of his own voice. His words were a lie, of course. The Vow held no sway over him in these matters. And he did not have wards placed on Draco.

He dare not allude to the true purpose. He dare not let it be known that Draco's brush with death had nearly undone the future. Had nearly deleted him from existence.

Draco coughed and drew attention back to him.

"Where the devil is Poppy?" Dumbledore said, looking around the infirmary. The medi-witch was nowhere in sight. "Minerva should be back by now with-"

Toby groaned as he sat up, despite having been told to stay in the bed. Swinging his feet around to the floor, he leaned over to grasp his wand, which had been taken and set on the stand beside the bed. "Look," he said, tucking the wand up the sleeve of his robes, back where it belonged. "We have to take this attack at face value. I cannot be moved to the Slytherin dorms, not that Professor Snape would allow me to."

"It would not be advisable, given your... condition," Snape agreed reluctantly. He was no fool - that much was clear. He knew the value of Narcissa Malfoy's trust. She was not one to give it freely. Yet... She chose to trust a filthy, disgusting beast to protect her son. And if he knew without a doubt that the other students in his house would be safe every month... he would be willing to make room for him, if only for Draco's sake.

"So what do you propose?" Dumbledore asked.

The two men were silent.

Draco tried to push up onto his elbows, but Snape reached down and held him still. "Place me into a private room. One only Tobias, Professor Snape, and yourself may enter."

"Out of the question," Snape said.

Toby smirked. "Place him with me," he said. "I will better be able to protect him, and should the need arise, hide him from sight. None know where my rooms are, and they reappear in many different places. The lions can't reach him and the junior Death Eaters won't know where to look."

Dumbledore seemed to consider this. "I would like to make one addendum if I may."

"By all means," Toby said, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture with his palms facing up. "It is, after all, your right as the headmaster."

"Your rooms," Dumbledore said, and as he spoke Snape watched him closely. Years of experience told him that the headmaster was taking the opportunity to gain influence over the werewolf. Judging by the younger wizard's expression, he too knew what to expect. "They will require expansion. I will personally oversee the addition of the space for young Draco, and place additional security for his safety."

"But of course, sir. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Draco groaned. Dumbledore opened his mouth to say more, but had been cut off by the arrival of Professor McGonogall and Madame Pomfrey. So instead... "We will discuss this at length. Until then, Severus will conduct the transfer of Mr. Malfoy's belongings to your suite in addition to devising appropriate punishments for the perpetrators of this heinous act."

Toby gave a nod of assent. Snape, curiously, watched him as he wondered what sort of game the two men were trying to play against one another.

**o0o**

"Did you hear what happened to Malfoy?" Ginny asked excitedly as she sat down between Harry and Seamus.

"Ferret was stabbed in the back by his own kind. Good riddance, I say," Ron managed after swallowing a mouthful of mince pie.

Hermione jabbed him sharply with her elbow. "Ronald!"

"That's a terrible thing to say. He could have been killed!"

"So? He's- He's _MALFOY_! Just because he doesn't have a mark doesn't mean he's not one of them!"

Harry stared across the table at his best friend, Ron's continued ravings distracting him from the youngest Weasley's attentions. "This is exactly the kind of shite we're fighting to stop!" he shouted amongst Ron's tangent, causing Lavender and her group of gossiping girls to look their way, quietly whispering to one another. The gaggle hoping for some juicy gossip.

Hermione chimed in her agreement. "Ron, we know you don't like him, but you can't really mean all of that."

"Hermione's right. He's awful, but he's just a kid. Like us. You know just as well as I do what's expected of him. He's only been doing what he was taught. With the sort of father he has, he did what he had to do to keep from getting in trouble," Neville said.

To hear Neville defending Draco, and agreeing with Hermione, gave him cause to wonder just what exactly it was that had caused such strong and blind bitterness between the two families. Ron and Malfoy never got along, true, but to carry on as he was about Draco's brush with death? It was ridiculous. Especially when Ron knew why Draco had sought out the order for help. Why he had to run from his own house.

"His childhood is no excuse for the things he's done," Hermione said, and Ron agreed. Neville's eyes took a haunted look. It wasn't there for long, but enough that Harry had noticed.

"Hermione," Neville said once it had passed. "There are just some things about pure-blood lineage you just cannot comprehend. It's not like you can just pick up a book on the subject and read about it. It's a cultural issue."

With a heated look to Ron, Neville stood from the table, gathering up his books to head off early for their classes.

Ron shrugged and shoved another slice of toast into his mouth with Hermione beside him, mumbling about Neville's comment. Harry put on his best face and gave them a nod. "I'll go check on Neville. See what that was all about," he said, pulling his hand away from where Ginny had been holding it. Quickly he finished off his pumpkin juice and got to his feet. "I'll see you guys in class."

Hurriedly, he left the great hall, wanting to follow Neville... but there had been another matter on his mind which took him the other direction. Towards the infirmary.

* * *

_**A/N -**_ apologies for taking so long on this one. Between work, schedules, and computers it took quite a bit, and it's not as long as we'd hoped. Even so, we do hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	9. 8 Worthless

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta: **Mel the Malady  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

Harry hadn't known what to expect when he entered the infirmary. Hiding beneath his invisibility cloak, he moved carefully and as quietly as he could through the halls. Keeping out of sight and notice of any who crossed his path. The last thing he needed was for word to get back to Ron that he'd gone to see how Malfoy was doing.

He waited outside the infirmary for a few minutes, waiting for an opportunity to slip inside. It came just as Professor Snape was storming out, his robes billowing out to give him a bat-like appearance. With the ease of experience he quickly slipped through the door as it closed behind the professor.

Harry searched the beds as he passed them, looking for Draco as he did.

"Hey there kiddo."

His head snapped to the left where, staring right back at him, sat the potions apprentice Mr. Black. Yet he knew he was hidden from view. Not even his shoes could be seen.

The man smiled. "Was wondering when you'd show up. Or not show, as the case is."

He didn't make a sound, instead, turning his head this way and that for any sign of Draco. All he saw was a mussed bed with a wet looking red patch. At this, he could not help but gasp. "Malfoy!"

"In the loo," the man said. "Well, that and a bath. Wouldn't let anyone give him a sponge bath, that one. You can wait around if you like. But take off that silly cloak. I can't see your face and I'd rather not look crazier than I actually am."

"I'd rather not," Harry replied at last. "Better this way."

"Suit yourself," he said, looking away from him. But not before Harry saw his nostrils flare as he took in a deep breath. Without looking towards the other bed, he lifted his hand, giving a flick of a few fingers and the red patch faded slowly to nothing. Just as a door on the far side of the infirmary opened.

Madame Pomfrey supported Draco's weight as they came slowly together down the line.

"Why isn't she using magic on him?" Harry whispered, turning his attention back to the man on the bed. "She shouldn't be making him walk after what's happened to him."

Toby's face softened. An expression of true and sincere compassion. "Because it hurts him. He must get through this the muggle way."

"But that could kill him."

"Which is exactly why we must be especially vigilant in our guard, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to speak more, but silenced himself as Draco was eased onto his bed. The tunic he wore was twice as large as it needed to be for his frame. Hanging off him as if he were a small child trying on his father's clothes. His skin had taken that sallow, sickly color once again. Beneath his haunted gray eyes the dark circles of exhaustion and sickness.

"How is he?"

"He," Draco said in a weak attempt at a superior tone, "will live a little longer now that he's clean."

"Mr. Malfoy, you must maintain a calm and peaceful demeanor in order to keep your body relaxed and your wound from reopening."

"I'll take good care of him," Tobias said. "After all, I was raised by muggles. I know how to handle these things."

"I highly doubt you have been stabbed in the side, Mr. Black."

"No... But I've been shot, maimed, clawed by a rather nasty dragon, and fallen on my own garden shears. Nearly all of which had been dealt with the muggle way."

Madame Pomfrey tutted and fussed over Draco a while longer before giving Tobias a warning look before returning to her office.

Draco waited for her to leave before allowing himself to show his discomfort. Oblivious to Potter's presence, of course. "A lot of good it is having my own werewolf if he proves to be absolutely worthless."

"You're just saying that out of misery. You'll feel better about it after you're back on your feet."

"I never should have listened to you. I should have stayed in my home. Stayed with mother and never come here."

"Then your mother's sacrifices would mean nothing," Tobias said simply, staring away from both him and Harry. "I have seen things done to her that would make even Albus Dumbledore weep in shame. And yet she kept fighting. Kept letting them do such terrible things to her... so that you would be left untouched. Unviolated by the beasts who begged to be allowed to use you."

At this Harry shuddered. He didn't know what Mrs. Malfoy had gone through at the hands of Voldemort. But the way Tobias spoke, the words he used, told Harry more than any explanation could have.

"I spent many a morning patching your good mother up. Nursing her back to health just so they could do it all over again. And for what? For a child who would rather be the Dark Lord's personal pet than face stupid, untalented, and frankly piss poor would be assassins. Yes, I wasn't there. That wasn't my fault either. But you can be damn certain that I won't fail again."

Harry waited for Draco to respond, but no... The boy fell into a fitful slumber halfway through the older wizard's rantings. The man smiled softly. Fondly, then beckoned Harry to him.

Harry moved, and he could see Toby's nostrils flare again before the man looked directly at him once more. "M'Lord, I ask that you not share what you have seen. If word reached the ears of his enemies, he cannot defend himself at this current time. If you must speak to a Slytherin, speak with Blaise Zabini."

"Zabini?" Harry whispered, glancing at the sleeping Draco. "He's one of Them."

"No, he isn't. He's the only one who knows the true loyalties in the Slytherin house. Countess Zabini is a strong ally to have. Her son is the best hope you have here at Hogwarts to get the truth of matters. The Zabinis hold no love for Tom Riddle, nor his followers. Ask Longbottom if you'd like." He settled back against the pillows with a grunt and a sigh before closing his eyes. "Now go. You're late for classes and I need my sleep."

**o0o**

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being late, Mr. Potter," McGonogall said tersely when she caught Harry trying to sneak into the classroom. Instead of going for the empty seat in the back he had originally planned on, he moved closer to the front of the room and slid down next to Hermione and Ron. When the attention was no longer on himself, he sighed in relief.

"Where were you?" Hermione whispered. "Neville said he hadn't seen you. What-"

"Professor Dumbledore needed to see me. About the private lessons."

"Has he told you what you'll be learning?"

He shook his head seconds before Professor McGonogall turned her attention back to them, making a little tutting noise in warning. Harry didn't even need to ask to borrow her notes later.

**o0o**

It was a month before Harry learned Draco had been released from the infirmary. Gossip told him he hadn't been seen in the Slytherin dungeon - and that he had been seen taking different paths each day. He'd checked his map, but by the time he reached the places where Draco would disappear from it, he found nothing. A few times he thought the other boy had gone into the Room of Requirement... only to learn that no, the room was not in use.

Often he would notice small groups, three to five students on average, following Draco on the map before the boy disappeared, while the others would stop. Pace around and then disperse. Clearly they were following him. Trying to discover his secret.

Outside of classes, he noticed Mr. Black was never far from Draco. His duties as apprentice took him all over the castle. Sometimes into the forbidden forest, but never for long. And soon enough he would show on the map again under another name... But it was clear, after Harry had attempted to follow Draco himself a few times, who that strange name belonged to.

Harry had finally come up with a plan to corner Draco, to find out what was going on. What he was up to and what had really happened to injure him - but Ron had other plans.

"Come on Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "It's been over a month and you still haven't held Quidditch trials!"

"I told-"

"You're the Captain! You have to decide who gets in."

"Katie can-"

"Harry you LOVE Quidditch!"

"I know!" Harry snapped in frustration, causing others to look their way in the common room. "Look. I've got a lot on my mind right now, and I..."

"You've got to stop worrying about Malfoy," Ginny said from behind his chair, causing him to jump from his seat and turn quickly, eyes wide before he realized it was only her. "He's not your problem anymore. Honestly Harry-"

"Talk to Katie. She'll set something up. I just..." He raked a hand through his hair with a groan and a sigh. "I'm going to bed."

"It's only seven!" Ron protested to Harry's retreating back.

"Then I'm going to study!" Harry snapped back before stomping up the stairs.

From the far side of the room, Neville looked up from his homework with a frown. Looking from Ron to the stairs leading up to the boy's dormitory. Tomorrow, he decided, he would find a way to get Harry alone to talk.

**o0o**

Draco let his mask fall the moment he was safely in the portrait hole. The first few days of returning to these new rooms he had attempted to maintain the appearance that everything was fine. And Tobias had allowed him to try. Now... He knew there was no hiding his emotions from a man who could read his every thought in his body language. In his face. In his voice and his eyes.

Some days Draco returned to find meals waiting for him. Clear liquids at first, then the softer foods. Or solid food cut into smaller pieces for him to manage. All of it charmed to keep warm. To keep cool. To keep from spoiling and going foul. Those were the days he knew his guardian would not return from his fools errands until late that night.

Draco always knew the man had returned when he would wake the next morning to find fresh bandages on his side and a cup of hot tea waiting for him on his nightstand. Made exactly the way he liked it.

**o0o**

Tobias stalked down the hall, nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of the traitors. He had waited... Waited until closer to the full moon. Closer to the time when his affliction would show itself more prominently.

This was an intelligence gathering mission. He had smelled them on Draco their enter stay in the infirmary. He had smelled them in the halls during the day. Following Draco but unable to single them out from the crowds.

But oh he had followed them this time. Knew they were Slytherin. Knew they were cunning and devious little snakes... But he was a wolf. A predator. A beast. And he would have his revenge for what they had not only done to Draco, but nearly done to himself as well.

So he waited. He smelled and dissected each scent. Deduced it down to its bare components before finally... Finally he had discovered who among the snakes it had been.

And now he tracked them through the castle late at night. Always losing their scent on the seventh floor.

This night, he waited. Knew his eyesight would be keenest in the dark. Knew his senses were at their height before his transformation the very next night...

The wooden door of the come and go room creaked open. And Tobias crouched further down in the darkness, shielded by both shadow and statuary. Silver eyes narrowed when he saw her. And he knew then what he was witnessing. The beginning of more than just the consequences of Draco's defection... This was the beginning of Pansy Parkinson's descent into the madness that would lead to associations with James Moriarty so many years from now.

Tobias waited until she had passed, then disappeared into the bowels of the castle in search of his own rooms, knowing that he could not interfere in her fate. Not without changing his own.

When he returned to his and Draco's now shared rooms, he poked his head into the boy's room. Safe and sound. He would order one of the house elves to see to his bandages and set out a fresh cup of tea for him in the morning.

**o0o**

Draco had never realized how much he looked forward to the Hogsmeade trips until he was informed that due to his injury, as well as the current state of general mistrust in his own house, he would not be allowed to make the visit to the nearby town.

Sitting in his shared rooms, he found himself not pouting, but enraged. He had yet to hear of who exactly had done this to him. Of anyone getting what was coming to them for their crimes against him. Unable to go anywhere in the castle without being subjected to Potter's pity. His guardian's ever present shadow in his wake.

So he busied himself with his homework. With practicing his spells, finding it difficult to focus due to the stinging sensation that burned through him with each attempt. It did not deter him, however, from trying to vent out his anger. The table in the center of his and Toby's sitting room had become the target of his frustration. Hit with hex after hex that left it scarred and burned. And left him drained and in pain.

Despite this, he continued, shouting angrily.

His life was ruined. His family broken. His power taken from him. Everything had fallen apart.

"Why!" he screamed, his voice strained with anguish as he sent another hex flying, this time at the wall. "Why!"

He crumbled to his knees, unable to stand any longer. Unable to feel anything but the pain and the rage coursing through him like fiendfyre. Unstoppable. Unchangeable.

"Because they fear you."

He turned his head, and stared through watery gray eyes at the man leaning against the wall at the entrance. "They fear what you know. They fear what you will do. They fear what you will become."

"A worthless, powerless child."

"They use muggle means to stop you, knowing they could never match your power. They attack from behind because they know they would never live through a confrontation to your face. They are mere snakes, afraid to challenge a dragon."

"I am no dragon," Draco replied, looking away from the man who so casually spoke of his misfortune. "I've lost everything."

He heard the footsteps approach. Slow. Deliberate. Measured. Then, they stopped beside him. Draco refused to look up. He could not bear the shame of having his weakness seen again.

After a long silence, and the feeling of eyes watching him, scrutinizing him, did he hear him speak again.

"My parents once told me a story. Of a powerful man. A brilliant, psychotic, cowardly man. A man who took everything from my father. His work. His hope. His pride. His heart. He burned the very soul out of my father. But there was one thing he could not take from him." He felt a hand gently brush his hair before resting on his head. "His life. As long as there is breath in your lungs and blood in your veins, you will have everything that you need. Everything that you require to get your revenge."

"They should have let me die."

"Why? To give your enemies the satisfaction of knowing their cowardice has rewarded them? Had you died, the slaves that did this to you would have suffered far worse than they could endure. The great and noble heir of the house of Malfoy, killed by a couple of children before the Dark Lord can exact his revenge... No. You spite them by living. And that spite will breed resentment. Resentment breeds recklessness. Recklessness makes them vulnerable. Paranoid. And when they are at their most vulnerable, that is when we will strike them down. One by one, they will know what it feels like to have everything stripped away. Piece by piece. Until they know the wrath of the dragon they have just unleashed."

At last, Draco looked up at him. In the calm mask he saw only rage. In the silver eyes only cold calculation. "Rest yourself now, little lord. Tomorrow we will begin."

**o0o**

Together they walked along the dreary streets of Hogsmeade. Bundled against the dreadful wind and rain. Harry walked between the girls, Ginny and Hermione, thankful that for once the conversation had not fallen to speculations of Malfoy's condition or fate. Instead, the girls were trying to work through the sorting hat's ominous opening speech.

"Okay, I understand the part about fear and sadness. We cannot dwell on the past, not while Voldemort is gaining followers to his cause," Hermione said. "And it's understandable that we can't rely purely on strength. I mean, this is a magic war. Physical strength has nothing to do with it. We have to rely on skill, on strategy."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I think it has to do with the werewolf," she said, her voice low so that no one would overhear her mentioning Mr. Black's secret. "He is a creature. And the hat mentioned that bit about the moon. That's a solid connection... are we meant to keep his secret? But if he's the creature mentioned, then he'll be found out. It said so right in the beginning."

Hermione tapped her scarf covered chin with a finger in thought as they passed the boarded up joke shop. Behind her she heard Ron groan in disappointment. "Perhaps we should focus on the second half of the speech. Children of Fire's Light. I think it might mean us. We're the only children linked to the Order." She lowered her voice when she spoke of the Order, like Ginny afraid of the wrong ears overhearing. "We have to remember the importance of Malfoy's sudden change of sides."

"How do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"He's exiled from his own world. From his family, his home. Everything. Who else could it possibly mean?" Harry chimed in, having been listening to the pair discuss the sorting hat's words and possible meanings. "His defection is important. Professor Dumbledore thinks he can help us. Tell us what it's like on the inside. Unlike Snape, he has no reason to lie about it. He can't go back. Even if he could, he'd be killed."

Hermione nodded as they made their way towards Honeydukes. "If anything, he's got more reason than the rest of us to be afraid. His own house is out to get him."

Ginny gave a sigh, then gave her agreement. She knew Hermione and Harry were right... But it was so hard to think of Malfoy as anything but the malicious, spoiled pure-blood brat he had always been. To think of him now as a victim of his own kind... It was to her mind bizarre.

Harry dropped behind the two girls when they reached the sweet shop, giving Ron a gentle push against the arm. "Hey," he said, trying to breach the awkwardness that had settled between them since news of Malfoy's near death had first come to light. "Sorry," he said. "About, you know."

Ron gave a half halfhearted smile. "I know," he replied. "You can't handle stress real well. Short temper. Think I'd remember that from fourth year." He gave a small laugh.

"Yeah. Thanks for, you know, not hounding Malfoy lately."

"Look mate, I still don't trust him. But you know I don't really want him to be-"

"I know." Harry gave a nod and clapped his friend on the shoulder with a grin. "Are we alright?"

"Of course," Ron replied. "Now come on, I heard they've got those new deluxe sugar quills. They'll take a month to eat through!"

The two boys went inside, both feeling a little less awkward and a lot less tense than they had in a while.

**o0o**

Draco rose to the sound of a violin. A violin that sounded like it was being murdered.

He rose from bed quickly, biting his lip to keep from shouting out at the mistake after the exertion he had put himself through the day before. Pulling on a bathrobe he kept near the bed, he padded out into the sitting room. "What in the name of Salazar are you doing?!"

The noise, for that is all it truly was, abruptly stopped. When it did, Draco sighed in relief. Only then did he notice his companion was most certainly under-dressed. Wearing only a pair of trousers low on his hips, he was standing in the sitting room with violin in one hand and the bow in the other. His back, covered in a tracery of thin white scars overlaid a larger, older set of what must have been rather deep gouge marks that extended from his left shoulder-blade and down around his hip, was facing him.

"My apologies, little lord," he said, not looking at Draco. He laid the instrument down, and the bow beside it. Both items reverted to their original forms of a cup and a book when he waved a hand over them. "It helps me to think."

"Why in the bloody hell would you make such atrocious racket?!" Draco snapped, realizing only after he'd said it that the words he'd subconsciously chosen were more frequently spoken from the werewolf's lips.

"I said, it helps me to think." He turned around at last to face Draco, and the teen saw the rest of the larger scars. Curling towards Toby's stomach. And there, at his shoulder...

Toby's expression softened briefly as he followed Draco's gaze. He touched a hand to the shoulder where he had the sigil of Lord Voldemort burned into his flesh. He did not bear the Dark Mark, that much had been quite true. But he had been branded, like cattle, with the coat of arms of the house of Gaunt. The puckered, raised flesh had healed improperly, having been burned with an item that had been resistant to magic... just as the knife used on Draco had been.

"I... usually keep a glamour up," he said. "But I wanted you to see the extent of the Dark Lord's malice. Some of these I came by naturally in my old life. The large claw marks... I was eighteen and attacked in Nocturne Alley. The hole here, in my hip," he said, gesturing to his right hip where another old scar, quite distinct in its spiral shape, sat hideously on his tanned skin. "Is a curse scar left on me at an early age. I had been kidnapped by squibs," he said. It was only a half truth... Only one had been a squib. The others had been mere muggles who didn't know what they were doing with a cursed object. "My parents found me, of course. My father made them regret what they had done. But I've borne this mark ever since. The rest... Well... You know what happens when wild dogs refuse to serve their masters."

It was a long time before Draco found his voice again. When he did, he suspected he knew the answer before even asking. "Why?"

"For helping your mother. For treating her wounds and showing her the respect she deserved as a human being." His eyes were hard now. His expression no longer open, but guarded and empty of all else. "Once you have eaten and had your bandages checked, we will begin with your training. When I am through with you, little lord, not even Dumbledore himself will be able to challenge the dragon you will become."

* * *

_**A/N -**_ WOO! Halfway through this chapter it was like pulling teeth! But here it is, before the end of June, as promised! Hope you enjoyed it. We hope to have the next chapter out by the middle of July, but work schedules are picking up hardcore, so if we're a little late then please don't be mad.


	10. 9 Eruditio

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta: **Mel the Malady  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

Harry and his friends finished off their Hogsmeade visit with a trip to the Three Broomsticks and some butterbeers. Unfortunately for Harry, Hermione, and Ginny they couldn't wiggle out of an invitation to supper when Professor Slughorn caught sight of them. The large, doddering old man planted himself at their table, between Ron and Hermione.

Inwardly Harry had hoped the babbling old fool would drop down between himself and Ginny. Regardless, the three trudged back to the castle, trying to devise excuses while Ron stewed in annoyance at having been overlooked.

"I can't stand him," Hermione said at last. "He's always going on about everyone he knows and how famous they are. People like him make me sick."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't see the harm in it," she said. "He's really proud of his former students and the things they've achieved."

Harry dropped her hand, causing her to pout. "It's annoying," Harry said, not explicitly saying their hand holding had been. But not quite denying it either. After a pause, he added. "He only wants to be seen with me because of my fame. Professor Dumbledore asked me to try and get close to him. I suppose I'll have to go whether I want to or not."

"What's so important about the old man anyway?" Ron asked, coming up along Ginny's other side as they came upon the large castle doors.

"The headmaster believes he holds an important secret about Voldemort." He ignored his friends' cringing at the name. "Until we know what it is, I have to play nice."

**o0o**

Draco sat back in his chair, staring at the silent man perched on the end of the table. It was unnerving, seeing him like that. Sitting with a knee on either side of his head, bare feet planted on the wood with his hands gripping the edge to keep from falling over.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"Thinking," he replied without opening his eyes.

"About?"

He sighed, then moved with the speed and agility of the beast inside. Soon he was standing flat upon the floor. Draco inwardly reminded himself to clean that end of the table thoroughly before going to sleep that night. "About where to start you off at. What spells to begin with." He turned to face the teen now, a hand on his hip with the other hanging limply at his side. "You're well versed in basic dark arts. And exceptional with a wand. But your wandless magic needs some work, and I know you have blocks on any wild magic in your core. That needs to be removed if you're going to attain your animagus form."

"I am not-"

"You're a Black. Every Black, even your mother, is an animagus. Thankfully Bellatrix's is pretty useless, otherwise we might have problems there."

"What?"

He smiled wickedly. "She's a common housefly. Houseflies can be swatted away quite easily. The most she can be is annoying. Now come, it's time to get to work." He moved quickly to a door Draco hadn't noticed before. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the entrance of the room. Opposite that were the two bedroom doors. But there, beside the fireplace, was another door. Nearly invisible had it not been for the very slight discoloration of the stonework. Toby had out his wand, and tapped the stones with deliberate slowness. Obviously Draco was meant to see the combination. When he lowered his wand, the doors parted in similar fashion to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Toby stepped in first, with Draco following. What he saw was less than he had expected. Against one wall there stood a low, but long, bookshelf. Ancient tomes lined the four shelves of each section. To the left, a table with one chair. Stacks of rolled, new parchment sat with copious bottles of ink, and a box of new quills sit in the center.

To the left, an empty space with markings scratched into the stone floor. It was to this area he walked, passing his guardian. Behind them, the wall sealed itself. Locking them inside.

"This," Toby said as Draco inspected the symbols on the floor, finding them not scratched in but hewn into the rock quite carefully. "Is where we will train. I added it in, with Snape's help, after Dumbledore had finished. He is, to my knowledge, unaware of its existence. We will keep it this way. If the old fool knew of the things I am going to teach you, I would be marked as an enemy and a Dark Lord collaborator. Is that understood?"

"I've no reason to tell the old fool anything."

Toby nodded in response. "Good. Now hex me."

"What?"

"I want the strongest, most powerful hex you know. In this space, hold nothing back. Now HEX ME!" he shouted, not even raising his wand to defend himself.

**o0o**

Neville had never been an early riser. But unlike his dorm mates, he didn't sleep his Sundays away. His night had been filled with a fitful sleep. An uneasiness that had settled on him two nights previous, when Harry had stormed off from his friends to take an early night's rest. He needed to talk to him. Just from looking at him, at the way he acted even around his friends, Neville could see that something in him had changed over the summer.

Had changed the night that his godfather had been murdered.

When he woke to find Harry's bed nearby empty, he quietly and carefully searched for his robe before descending the stairs. He took them one at a time, slowly, to keep them from creaking as he ventured down to the common room.

Just as he had suspected, he found Harry. Seated by the fireplace with a book in his lap. That was... Well, he hadn't expected to see Harry with a book. The boy was known for his poor study habits. Just as he approached his friend, he glimpsed the rather old and beaten cover of a potions textbook. Neville was grateful that he hadn't needed to take it this year, with or without Snape the subject was daunting.

"Morning Harry," he said, making himself known to the other boy, who quickly shut his book and tucked it between his thigh and the arm of the chair. "Fancy seeing you up so early."

"Yeah... Well," he said, not really intending it to go anywhere as Neville sat down on the sofa nearby.

"I couldn't sleep," Neville said, hoping to get Harry talking. "Been having nightmares a lot lately. About Bellatrix."

He wasn't lying. The fact that the woman who had tortured his parents into insanity was still out there drove him to work harder. To practice and train more. But more often than not his dreams were riddled with their encounter at the DOM. Though recently she had fallen to the background... And he was worried for his friend.

"I know what you mean," Harry replied quietly.

Both boys had something they felt needed to be talked about, but neither knew how to start. In the silence that fell between them, they each thought on what to say. Harry fidgeted, remembering what the werewolf had told him when he'd gone to check on Draco. Well that, Harry supposed, was a good place to start. "I saw Draco," he said. "Before he was released to his new rooms."

"Oh? How was he? I heard the rumours, and I've seen him in a few classes. He doesn't look well. Hides it, but honestly he looks so tired all the time."

"He looked terrible," Harry admitted. "And Pomfrey couldn't use magic to help him. The knife they used was anti-magic. And any little spell used on him would hurt."

Neville nodded. "It was probably coated in a poison. It got into his bloodstream and spread throughout. He'd have had to heal the muggle way."

Harry nodded in return. "It was awful," he said. "And Mr. Black was in bad shape too. His vow nearly killed him I think. Because Draco was dying, it punished him for not protecting him." He glanced at Neville, unsure how to bring up the question he needed to ask.

"I've heard of it removing magic, turning people into squibs, but never killing them."

"Maybe it was a different kind. A dark arts version?"

"All Unbreakable Vows have the same consequences..." Neville said, but it was clear by his expression he was giving the theory some thought. "I can look it up, if you want. I mean, I'm no Hermione but I might be able to find something. Maybe my gran would know."

"Thanks," he said.

"I heard someone in his own house did it to him," Neville said after a moment more of thought. "Was it-"

"I don't know who it was. But yeah. It was Slytherins," Harry said, almost sadly. If you couldn't count on your own house mates... "Speaking of," he added. "Since Draco switched sides, I've been thinking. There might be other Slytherin students who aren't linked to Voldemort." Neville shuddered at the mention of the name, but Harry continued on. "Or are at least neutral. It might help us if we found out who they were. Maybe convince them to help us. They could let us know who in the school to keep an eye on."

Neville shook his head. "Even if there are, I doubt they would rat on their house mates. Especially to Gryffindors. Especially to you."

"It doesn't have to be me," he said. "Luna's a Ravenclaw. And she appears non-threatening. Odd, but they wouldn't see her as a danger."

"It might work, but first we would have to know who we could trust in that house. And I don't think it'll be easy."

This was his opportunity. "What about Zabini?"

"Zabini?"

"Yeah. Mr. Black mentioned him to me. Said his family can't stand the Death Eaters."

Neville hummed, watching Harry closely as he tried to remember everything he could about the Zabini family. "I think... he might be right. My gran once told me about Countess Zabini fighting off Death Eaters in the first war, when she refused to join them. They laid siege to her home, but she refused every offer. Replied to every threat. Until finally she... Well, according to the story, she sent back one of the d... One of Voldemort's generals." He swallowed. "Without a head."

"So it's safe to say that the Zabinis really don't like them. And aren't part of Voldemort's army then."

Neville shrugged. "It's just a story. But Harry, be careful if you approach him. He's a Slytherin, and you know how slimy they can be."

Harry nodded, reassuring his friend that he would be careful in whatever he decided to do. They changed their conversation to more pleasant matters. School work and Neville's gardening over the summer.

It was far too soon when Harry heard the cheerful call of "Good morning Harry!" from the girl's stairwell. Ginny Weasley had finally woken up.

**o0o**

Draco flung hex after hex, watching as the mongrel flung them away or back. Deflected or returned. Each time angrier and angrier. Shouting at the teen, growling that he could do better. That he knew Draco was holding back. That he shouldn't focus on purely dark spells.

"Arma lucis!" he snapped when Draco, in frustration, flung a cruciatis at him. The spell rebounded, creating an explosion of force that knocked both men backwards.

Tobias recovered quickly, leaping to his feet and rushing to Draco's side. "You alright kid?"

Draco groaned, reaching for his side. "It hurts."

"Well, what did you expect?" Tobias replied, kneeling beside him. He lifted his shirt, checking around his injury. "No blood. Your stitches held." He placed a hand over the red, raised area. "A little warm... But no internal damage. On your feet soldier." He brushed his hands on his knees before rising back to his feet again. Draco opened his eyes, glaring at him.

"I could have been killed!"

"Yes. You could have. I didn't say this was going to be easy. And it took us a while to get there, but you finally started tapping into your core. Breaking through the walls put up to prevent your power from truly growing."

He held out his hand, offering it to his charge.

Draco reached up and slapped it away, insisting on getting to his feet himself. Toby shrugged, standing back and smirking at him as Draco struggled to stand. "What WAS that?!" he demanded angrily once he was standing.

"That," Toby said, hands open with palms facing Draco in a non-threatening manner. "Was the most powerful light spell I know. The Arma Lucis, literally translated it is Light Armor. A protective shield created by focusing the wavelengths of light into a singularity, and merging it, briefly with your magical core."

"But you're a dark wizard!"

"And I told you not to focus on purely dark spells. The Arma Lucis works only against dark magic, being the polar opposite of it. Did you notice how it was cast?" he asked, his tone more akin to an instructor than a protector.

"You did not use your wand."

"And?"

"Your hand. I often see you waving a hand to complete a spell, rather than your wand. The spells you use your wand hand for are mundane. Common spells that can easily be done with the wand. Yet your opposite hand had been used. This, I often see, is the case for more complicated spellwork."

"Correct. Now tell me how it was cast."

"With your hand."

"Go deeper, Draco. What did you notice about the hand in question?"

Draco looked from his face to his hand, then down at his own corresponding limb. He turned his hand over to examine the back, then again the palm. His fingers bent inward one by one. First one at a time, then two, three. Different combinations of the fingers. "You applied a specific hand position."

"Yes, I did."

"The specific position of the fingers mimics the movements of a wand. By bending your fingers inward, or splaying them out at the sides, you can focus or unfocus as necessary. But it is the lines of the hand that have the most significance."

Toby nodded, interrupting Draco before he could go further. He waved him over, motioning towards the table. "Each line of the hand is representative of a point in your magical core. Head, heart, life. Each serves a purpose. The Arma Lucis taps into the heart line, a direct conduit to the heart, where the most raw and powerful magic is stored in your core. Seventeen years ago, this spell had no name. Because of where it draws its power many claim it is Love. Ironically, emotions do come into play whether we like it or not."

He pulled out the chair, indicating that Draco sit. When he was seated, Toby went to the bookshelf and pulled three volumes that, when they were placed in front of Draco, gave off a horrendous smell.

He pulled a face. "These are awful!"

"They come from the Potter family library. Obviously, they've been neglected for quite some time."

Grey eyes widened in disbelief as he turned in his seat to stare at Toby. A million questions flew through his mind. "How did you come by these?"

"The place was abandoned. I... took a little trip one night to rifle through the wreckage. Look, they're useful. Now start with the top one, and work your way through. The Potters were rather brilliant when it came to spell creation. Their power and their ingenuity created some of the most powerful and complex spells in existence. I want you to pay special attention to the notations by Hadrian James Potter the seventh. They are quite illuminating on the subject of animagi and wild magic."

He indicated the parchment rolls. "Take notes as you deem necessary. By Saturday, I expect you to have mastered the Arma Lucis and have a working theoretical knowledge of the key elements of wild magic."

"I'm not going to sit here all day rifling through Potter's books."

He gave a wolfish grin. "Oh, I didn't say all day. This is just your rest period. We'll be getting back to work after lunch is served. If you've done well, I might even explain how I was able to pull you into my memories that one time."

With that, the werewolf turned on his heel, hands clasped behind his back as he went to the blank wall where they had entered. He briefly unclasped them in order to tap the stonework with his finger, then disappeared back into their common room. The wall quickly sealed itself again, trapping Draco inside.

He groaned, turning his attention back to the old, smelly books that sat before him. "Start with the top," he mumbled. "Stupid Potter. Probably doesn't even know they exist." Looking around the training room, he decided to get up and look around. Though most of the books looked like they were going to fall apart if touched, he could not pass up the chance to examine them. Assuming they all came from the Potter library, he hoped to find some information that could be used later. Perhaps he could find dark magic texts among the famous Light magic using family's history. Information that could be used against Potter when...

"You must stop thinking like that," Draco said to himself.

He had switched sides in this war. Constantly he had to remind himself that Potter was no longer his enemy. In fact, due to the oaths sworn when they repaired the wards at Grimmauld Place, Potter was now his liege lord.

After exploring the room, and finding that he couldn't get out when tapping the stones with his finger or his wand, he sat back down in the chair. He reached for a roll of parchment, then a quill from the box and a bottle of ink. The first book was heavy, and he let it drop before him with a slam against the antique wood. A sigh passed his lips as he opened the cover to discover the book was written in German.

"Oh for the love of Salazar!" he exclaimed in frustration, casting a translation charm on the book.

It was going to be a much longer day than he had initially thought.

**o0o**

Blaise Zabini. That was his next goal. To talk to him, to get information on any neutral Slytherins that could be swayed... To get his support, at least in helping Draco. Helping keep him safe.

For once he was able to sit through breakfast without having been the focus of Ginny's attention. She had instead engaged herself in a rather heated argument over a homework assignment for Charms, and was unable to give Harry the normal amount of her affections. He was rather grateful for it, as it gave him time to actually eat and speak with his friends.

"I think," he said in a low tone to Ron and Hermione, "That we should find out who in Slytherin is actually not a junior Death Eater. If we had a connection inside the house, we might be able to keep a check on any activities going on here. They attacked Malfoy in the open, so we know there's a division in the house."

"That's a great idea Harry," she said. "But how would we approach any of them? If we follow them around all the time trying to figure out who is neutral, then we'll look suspicious. And you know how Slytherin house operates. They'll close ranks faster than Snape takes away points."

He nodded, then looked to Ron, who had a sausage sticking out of his mouth. A muffled answer before he took the uneaten part away from his lips and finished chewing. "Well," he said, spitting bits of sausage as he spoke.

"Ewww!" Hermione exclaimed. "At least swallow before you speak Ronald!"

The tops of his ears flushed red against his fire colored hair before he did exactly that. "We could check out some of the Ravenclaws. They have more classes with Slytherin than Gryffindor, and those two houses seem to have at least a good relationship between them."

Harry nodded.

"Did you have anyone in mind already? I know you Harry - you've always got your eye on anyone suspicious. And since Malfoy's now with us, I'm sure you've been keeping track of who's taken charge of the snakes since then."

"I'm thinking we'll start with Blaise Zabini."

"Why him?"

"Same year as us. Plus he seems to be in the background of a lot of things over there. Always watching but never really asserting himself unless he has to. If anyone knows anything about what's going on in the dungeons, I'll bet he's the one." Harry picked up a piece of toast and started to munch on it thoughtfully.

Ron shrugged. "What about any girls?"

"Parkinson seems to have been Malfoy's right hand with the girls. Logically speaking," Hermione said, stopping only to take a sip from her pumpkin juice. "With Malfoy out of the picture, she likely has taken control of at least the girls from his group. As for the boys... I can't really be sure."

"Definitely not Crabbe or Goyle. Those two couldn't find their way out of a bedsheet, let alone rally a group of kids to attack one of their own."

"Something's not right in that house. The balance of power has shifted so drastically... I'll see what I can find-"

"Let's send Luna," Seamus said.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry all turned their attention to Seamus in unison. "What?"

He gave them a sly smirk. "What, didn't think I'd be paying attention to you lot yammering on right next to me? Way I see it, you should send Luna to find out about the girls. She's looney, she is. Nobody would suspect her for anything. Plus, she's a Ravenclaw. Slytherins like them a whole lot better than they like any of us."

"It's perfect," Hermione said. "Harry, I think we should call a DA meeting, too. Let everyone know to keep their eyes out, that way they don't think something fishy's going if they see us talking to kids from Slytherin."

The remainder of breakfast went by with the owl post arriving a little late due to the wet and rainy weather. Harry frowned when one of the school owls dropped a scroll in front of him. Looking up and down the table, he saw others had received the same bright green ribbon wrapped scroll.

"Oh no..." he heard Ginny groan. "Not again."

Harry looked to Hermione, who also received a scroll. The two glanced once more up and down the table to see how many at their house table received one. Very, very few. Harry untied the green ribbon, setting it beside his plate and unfurled the scroll.

"Bloody hell," he said as he read the flowing handwriting of one Professor Horace Slughorn, cordially inviting him to a special dinner party to be held late that evening, the previous dinner having been rescheduled due to an accidental explosion in the potions classroom by his incompetent apprentice.


	11. 10 Glances

**Title:** Blood Loyal  
**Series:** Sherlock!Wizardverse  
**Fandoms:** Harry Potter/some BBC!Sherlock in the prologue, and references after  
**Pairings:** pre-slash and slash Drarry, Romione, and others as they come along  
**Author:** Z-sama (dA user _the-lady-harkness_) and Tem  
**Beta: **Mel the Malady  
**Legal:** We don't own the characters created by Ms. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or stuff controlled by the BBC.

**WARNINGS: **please see first chapter for full warnings

**MISC:** This is 6th year AU, and sets up the background of the Sherlock!Wizardverse. This is also a prequel (of sorts) to our other story John, I'm a Wizard. For more information on the AU that this story takes place in and bonus content , please see our fanfic tumblr - _**sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com**_

* * *

Just as promised, Draco's training resumed after lunch with the application of non-verbal defensive spells. An hour before supper, he was seated again at the table to study. He was surprised by the depth of the concepts found in the text. Indeed, the handwritten notes in the margins and the diagrams hand drawn into the larger once blank spaces were helpful. He soaked up the information like a sponge. Comitting every spell, every definition and idea to memory. Recipes for potions drew his attention the most. And he had been forced to admit that he had been quite impressed by the potions that relied solely on muggle medicines available in the century the texts originally hailed from.

Draco had been so engrossed in his reading that when Tobias tapped him lightly on the shoulder for dinner, he jumped from the chair in fright.

Toby laughed heartily, reaching out to clasp a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Come, come," he said, giving it a squeeze. "It's time to eat. Give that brain of yours a rest for a while."

"But-"

"No buts, little lord." He let him go and turned to exit the training room. When he noticed Draco's hesitation he added, "Perhaps you don't wish to know some of my secrets then. Just as well I suppose..."

"No no, I'm coming," he said, reaching for his rolls of parchment.

"Leave them. They're safer in here than our rooms. Remember, a certain headmaster cannot enter this sanctuary whereas he has access to the rest."

With a nod, slow and regretful, Draco followed. When he stepped out of the training room, the wall once more sealed behind them. Before them, the table was laden with much food. A wide variety of meats. Cheeses and soups. Fresh breads and mead. Yes, that sweet and sinful drink of fermented honey.

"This is-"

"Yeah. Honey is a natural restorative. Mead retains many of the health benefits of honey. Alcoholic drinks, in moderation, can help relax the muscles and tension. Unless you'd like to drink one of those disgusting potions..."

"You know it is against the rules for students to consume-"

"All the more reason," he replied, seating himself at one end of the table. He rubbed his hands together before greedily reaching out for a the serving fork standing in a pile of ham slices. "Do pardon my table manners. But the sun goes down soon and I need to eat my fill before I leave for the night. It won't do to wake and find I've gone hunting."

He piled what to Draco seemed a disgusting amount of food on his plate while the teen slipped into his chair. He reached for a basket of hot yeast rolls. "What are the marks carved into the floor of the room?" Draco asked, figuring he had little else in common to speak of with the man. He wrinkled his nose as he filled his plate modestly with meats and cheeses. A small portion of bread and a helping of steamed carrots and potatoes. Many of the foods, he noticed, were heavy in fats and protein. More than likely to accommodate the ravenous appetite of the wolf.

"Protective sigils. A great deal for concealment. Not only is the room hidden from the meddling headmaster, it's shielded against nosey ministry idiots. Why do you think we didn't immediately receive howlers and memos for the use of dark magic? Because it cannot be detected from outside that room."

"I don't recognize them from any text. Nor from any ritual sanctum I have ever visited."

"You wouldn't. I learned them from my father," he said, taking a large bite of chicken right off the leg bone. "Who learned them from his father." As he spoke, bits of meat fell out of his mouth while he reached for another handful of bread. "My grandfather created them." Though, he supposed, it had been an unending loop. He had learned them from Sherlock, who had learned them from Draco, who had seen them used here in this place. Learned them here and now. He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and took a great swallow of mead.

"That's not what you want to know though, is it? You want to know a great deal. And I am, for the moment, inclined to answer if I am able."

Draco swallowed, setting his fork down beside his plate and wiping his mouth carefully, politely with his napkin. He reached for the mead cautiously, but having seen his companion take a swallow himself, knew it would be safe to drink. He took a small sip, licking his lips at the sweet honey taste. "Yes, I have many questions. Many I fear you will never answer."

"Perhaps," the hungry wolf replied, silver eyes watching every move Draco made.

"Firstly, the books I am to study, and the others on the shelves. You claim they are from the Potter family library. I do not doubt the first volume I have studied. Indeed you were correct that Hadrian the seventh had left quite detailed and enlightening notes throughout the work."

Toby nodded.

"But I am curious as to how you attained them. A few short nights ago, you claim. That may very well be true. I question the manner in which you acquired them."

"Like I said, I rifled through the wreckage. Potter's cottage is still there. You have been there yourself, inside the ruin."

Draco frowned in concentration, trying to recall such an instance.

"We fled from the muggle village into the forest. Then apparated to a crumbling ruin."

"We were in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes. Is it so hard to believe?"

"The.. But everyone knows that the Potter's cottage was under a fidelus. That's why it looks like an empty lot!"

"From the outside, perhaps. But on the inside... When you are a creature hated and hunted by society, you learn to uncover and harness secrets. Secrets that can save your life by hiding in plain sight. I learned the secret of Potter's cottage from the rat Pettigrew before our grand escape. A well placed accio and a few drops of veritaserum can work wonders. Never forget that, little lord." He took another bite of his dinner and chased it down with a large swallow of mead. "I nipped back a few nights ago to search through the wreckage. To find anything I could to help in your training. I was able to remove them from the basement due to the vow we each made to Potter. I serve you first, and Potter second. It is my duty to make you more able to serve the liege lord. Anything that will aid me in this purpose, I found I could take. Magic, you see, depends largely on intent. If I had intended to simply take them for personal gain, I would have been prevented from doing so."

"I see... Father placed similar charms on the items in his study and the library. As well as the ancestral vaults."

Their meal passed in this manner. Draco asking one of the many questions whizzing through his mind. Toby answering as much as his situation could allow. Finally, after a long silence had fallen across the table, and Toby had eaten his fill, Draco felt he must voice one more inquiry. After all... Tobias had mentioned he may reveal how he had pulled Draco into his own memories. It was this question Draco put to him now, and Toby gave a groan, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Evening was drawing to a close. The sun would soon be down and the full moon risen high.

"I... My brother and sister experimented with the legilimency spell. Mainly to aid in their work. The use of a pensieve was, unfortunately, limiting. They can be altered and corrupted with time and effort. However, to be able to walk among one another's memories, they could review information in its natural state in a matter of seconds or hours. Hold conversations in absolute secrecy. If you wish, I can teach you the fundamentals of this technique." He groaned, and unconsciously rubbed his arm. "But not tonight."

"I think I would like that," he replied before Toby hurried off.

He did not want Draco to see him change his skin.

**o0o**

Harry tugged at his collar. He had tried to wriggle his way out of the dinner party, but Professor Slughorn had cornered him in the Great Hall at lunch, reminding both him and Ginny of the affair.

They had been unable to excuse themselves from it. However, Harry noted, there had been a silver lining to his misery.

Blaise Zabini. The Slytherin had also been roped into attendance.

The dinner had been filled with pretentious conversation and name dropping. Slughorn's persistent questions about Harry and his known exploits. Unwanted praise from the professor, and the unspoken insinuation that one day, when Harry had attained a level of influence and power, he wouldn't forget dear old Professor Slughorn now would he?

The more the old man talked about his famous friends and former pupils, the more Harry started to drift off or drown him out. He looked around the table, surprised to notice Zabini watching him. The boy's eyes turned to Ginny, then back to Harry almost in question. Harry sighed and blinked slowly, and Zabini rolled his own eyes. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders Harry reached for his drink.

He didn't know what exactly had just transpired, but at least he had reason enough now to speak to the boy after the most boring dinner he had ever attended would end.

**o0o**

The wolf prowled the halls in the dark of night. Hiding from the nuisance that was the grounds-keeper's cat, he made his way around. Keeping watch. In the back of his mind, he knew what he truly was. A man, clad in the skin and bound to the bones of a wolf.

But in this state, he was free. The war taking place just beneath his skin and in the depths of his consciousness was, for a time, silenced. Man and beast were one and the same. The brilliance of man and the power of beast.

And so, it was in this state Tobias would do his work. Hunger sated early in the evening with Draco, he was able to focus in on his task. Keep watch in the castle, yes, but also to track. To track her movements. To gain entry to the Room of Requirement. To gain Parkinson's trust as the beast, one branded as enslaved to the Dark Lord. In this way, he could learn exactly how the events to come would be set into motion. Exactly when he needed to take Draco into hiding. To warn Dumbledore, though he thoroughly disliked the old man, of the impending battle.

He waited outside the door for her. Sniffing the air and hiding when he noticed a change in scents.

But he waited.

He knew she would come out. And that was when he would show himself to her.

That was when he would begin his long hunt.

**o0o**

"Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed after they had left Slughorn's office. "I thought he would never let us leave."

Harry hung back some, looking around at the other students who left the dinner party. Talking quietly amongst themselves as they began to fan out in their different directions. He spotted Zabini chatting with another Slytherin boy. He caught Harry's eye and raised a quizzical brow. Harry turned his attention away only when Ginny took his hand.

"Come on Harry."

He pulled his hand away quickly. "You go on. I'll catch up."

"But-"

"DA business," he interrupted. "Ron, Hermione, and I decided to call a meeting tomorrow night. I'll tell you about it then. But right now, I've got something to take care of," he said.

She pouted, disappointment clear on her face before she quickly recovered. "I could come with you."

He shook his head, glancing back towards Zabini, who now was further up the hallway leading towards the Slytherin dorms. "No. I have to do this alone. If you're there, it might not turn out the way we need it to."

She followed his gaze and lowered her voice. "You can't be serious, Harry. He's a Slytherin. A junior Death Eater."

"Zabini's mum fights against Death Eaters, Ginny."

"He's dark."

"So's Malfoy. And they tried to kill him. I'll explain everything tomorrow night. Promise."

Ginny watched him go then, hurrying to catch up with the two Slytherin boys. She lingered, just a little longer, to watch as Harry and Zabini glanced around, exchanging a few looks before they disappeared under Harry's invisibility cloak.

**o0o**

Ginny burst into the common room, having run straight back to Gryffindor Tower after watching Harry and Zabini disappear beneath the cloak.

"Merlin's beard!" Ron exclaimed when he saw her, jumping up from his seat by the fire where he and Neville had been playing chess. Both boys unable to sleep in dread of their first exams the next day. "Where's the fire?" Neville called over from his seat.

"More importantly, where's Harry?"

"He... Zabini..."

"Breathe girl," Ron said.

Ginny nodded as Neville brought her a glass of water. She gulped it down and reached for the nearest table to steady herself. Once she had caught her breath, she handed the glass back to Neville, who turned it back into a chess piece. "Harry," she started. "After the dinner was over, we were heading back here. But he left to go talk to Zabini. They'd been exchanging glances all evening. It was unnerving, Ron. Like they were having a conversation without actually having a conversation."

"Yeah, well, where is he now? Why didn't he come back with you?"

"He's talking to Zabini. At least, I hope that's what he's doing. They disappeared under his stupid cloak!"

"Trust me, Gin, that's all they're doing," Ron reassured her. "It's about tomorrow night. We're calling a DA meeting."

"Yeah, that's what Harry said but-"

"We hope to have a spy in Slytherin. To know what's really going on over there. I mean, Malfoy's been their leader for years. And suddenly his own friends try to kill him. There's junior Death Eaters in there, but Harry thinks there's some who aren't. They're the ones we need to talk to. That's why he's talking to Zabini. To check if he's with us or against us."

Neville listened as Ron continued to explain the plan to her, and while his outward expression showed nothing of his true thoughts on it, but watching Ginny's face, her movements as Ron spoke to her, inwardly he was beginning to doubt her. He knew it was wrong. She was his friend; a fellow DA member. They had fought in the Ministry together. Had faced Death Eaters and Umbridge both together. Yet something was off about Ginny. Her attachment to Harry bordered on obsession. He'd noted this, off and on in passing, through the years he'd known her. But never had it become more illustrated than this moment. With each mention of Harry's name her eyes lit up and her worry over his association with a Slytherin put at ease whenever Ron said it was Harry's idea to begin with.

As if Harry could do no wrong.

It was unhealthy.

When Harry returned hours later, Neville had remained in the common room to read after the others went upstairs to sleep. Harry slipped quietly through the room towards the stairs, and in the firelight Neville swore the other boy's cheeks were flushed. Perhaps the rosy colour came from his hurry to return to the tower. Perhaps he hadn't accidentally found that some of the rumours about Blaise Zabini were true.

**o0o**

Draco had tossed and turned all night. Unable to sleep, unable to relax. Unable to stop thinking about Tobias's answers for him at supper. It was of the great mystery he now pondered in his tired mind. Of the spell that had pulled Draco into the wolf's mind.

A variant of legilimency, he had said. Spells, Draco knew, were difficult to change. It took years of study to even master the theory behind such a task. More years than he was sure Tobias had lived. And the practice... the skill involved was dangerous. Fatal even, if it failed. He knew of very few wizards and witches who had mastered the art of spell creation to the point that they could alter existing spells with ease.

And yet here was this young man. Strange, eccentric, and often times alien. Able to cast spells without voice, without wand, and on a range he had seen only the headmaster, his father, and the Dark Lord capable of. No... Not only them.

Potter, though untrained and unskilled, had power behind his wand. Wild and hardly tested - but he remembered sorely third year and his encounter with Potter's patronus. A spell no third year could have, should have been able to master so easily and quickly.

Laying in bed, staring at the canopy while pondering Potter's potential, he realized Tobias often showed similar characteristics. The carelessness of his actions. The clumsy way he cast his magic. The fault of allowing his emotions to lead him more often than his mind and logic. His stubborn loyalty. His unwavering faith in powers greater than himself.

The look of despair on his face when he believed none could see it. The defeat in his eyes, hidden behind the smile and laughter.

And yet - Harry had something more than the mysterious cousin Tobias had.

Where Tobias hid his uncertainty with conviction and determination, Harry hid his conviction behind a veil of uncertainty.

Where Tobias looked on the world with weary old eyes, Harry saw it through a looking glass. Saw it filled with danger, yes, but also excitement and wonder. He saw the world as if it were still unfolding before him.

Tobias saw it as if he had seen all there had been to be seen. Had learned all there was to learn. He looked at the world as if an old man looking back on a life long lived.

Draco finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, wondering how much tragedy his companion had truly seen, and how many people he had lost in his time on this earth.

* * *

**A/N** - This is the last chapter that will be co-written by Z and Tem. Due to circumstances out of our control, Z will be writing the story alone from this point on, with Tem beta reading from time to time when possible. Chapters WILL continue to be posted here, as well as any other Wizardverse related pieces. Tem will continue to answer reviews and questions, when time permits, but please be patient as schedules are rather busy and it could be a month before you get a response - but you WILL get one. Thanks so much for reading this far, and please continue to stick around!


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